


The Evolution Of Kissing

by ProstheticLoVe



Series: I'm Waiting For My Man [1]
Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Anal Sex, Bipolar Ian, Character Development, Homophobia, Internalized Homophobia, Intimacy, Kisses, M/M, Missing Scenes, Seasons 1-10, Series, Slurs, Spoilers, dealing with rape, lonely mickey, set through the series
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-26
Updated: 2020-04-30
Packaged: 2021-02-27 11:08:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 15
Words: 68,717
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22426072
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ProstheticLoVe/pseuds/ProstheticLoVe
Summary: How Ian and Mickey’s kisses have changed through the time they've been together. Or how Mickey has become more comfortable with himself and Ian has grown to love Mickey.A look into the evolution of Gallavich kisses.
Relationships: Ian Gallagher & Mickey Milkovich, Ian Gallagher/Mickey Milkovich
Series: I'm Waiting For My Man [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1673368
Comments: 86
Kudos: 365





	1. Tire Iron

**Author's Note:**

> While gearing up for the finale, I saw the 2 minute video by Showtime that depicts the evolution of Gallavich and I got this idea to focus a story around their kisses. Also, I always wondered about that moment where they went from fighting to fucking and I wanted to explore that. 
> 
> I loved the finale, it was amazing and because of how far they came, I really wanted to show the evolution of their intimacy. From that hookup in Mickey’s house to the season finale. There are spoilers for the whole series and it’s set throughout the whole series. Each chapter is a look into the evolution of a different kiss.
> 
> Of course, this chapter is the first 'almost' kiss. It's my first time writing gay sex, so let me know if you have any pointers or suggestions. And overall, if you'd like let me know what you think! 
> 
> Disclaimer: no one belongs to me!

Ian Gallagher hated Mickey Milkovich. There were no two ways about it. 

He genuinely hated the other boy. 

It was a relatively new development, but it was the truth.

He hated the way he thought he could walk all over other people who didn’t deserve to be shitted on.

He hated how he treated other people, in general.

He hated how he had no civic pride in his own neighborhood.

He _really_ hated how he treated Kash when Kash did nothing to deserve it. 

But most of all, Ian hated that despite all of it, there was something innately interesting about the guy. 

And Ian found himself inexplicably drawn to him.

He just couldn’t seem to leave him alone.

It wasn’t like he was romantically interested in him.

He was with Kash, after all.

And he thought he loved Kash.

So he knew it was more than that. 

It was purely interest in Mickey being Mickey; why did he do the things he did? What drove him? 

Ian couldn’t tell if it was hate, family obligation, nature, or just a desire to piss people off that made Mickey do the things he did.

Even when they were young, Ian was always interested in the tales of Mickey Milkovich. He always seemed like some...some mythical character who came and went as he pleased who didn’t give a fuck about anyone else and what they thought about him. He seemed strong, brave, and - despite what some people thought - smart.

Ian didn’t think you could survive as a Milkovich without being at least halfway intelligent.

Thinking about the last rumor he heard about Mickey, when he went to juvie again for stabbing a fork through someone’s hand for calling him scrawny and stupid, Ian knew that Mickey was Southside through and through, but there was another side he was sure that caused his curiousity of the other man.

Another time, Ian heard he was selling coke out of the girl’s bathroom with the help of his sister and a few of the other girls she was sort’ve but not really friends with. Ian remembered that one of the girls was raped by an older student and Mickey sent him to the hospital. No on else did anything, not even the girl’s parents, but Mickey stood up for her.

To Ian, there was always something about him that left the redhead wondering why. 

Why did he strive to piss off every teacher in every grade?

Why did he try to start fights for no reason?

Why did he smirk when he sometimes caught Ian staring at him? 

He couldn’t help but enjoy the mystery around the guy.

Sure, everyone talked about how he was just another Milkovich spawn who was going to end up like his father, but Ian always wondered if there was something more there.

Something only he could see that everyone else skipped over because all they noticed about Mickey was his sooty skin, hard blue eyes, and fuck-off attitude.

He always thought if it was just too easy for Mickey to end up like his father. Like it was the path of least resistance and yet, Mickey didn’t seem all that keen on following it. 

There was something in him that Ian recognized as a desire to fight, to prove people wrong, to show them up.

He watched the guy from afar and never had much interaction - besides drug deals and random run ins around the Southside - until the last few days.

Well, weeks really since he had come after Ian with his brothers to stand up for Mandy’s honor.

Or lack there of, Ian thought privately.

Sure, he and Mandy were on better terms now, but that didn’t mean she didn’t have a vibrant past filled with less than savory characters.

Besides they lived on the Southside. Everyone had a past filled with colorful bad decisions. 

It would be easier to just listen to Kash and continue to be smart men in a stupid world. It would be best for Ian if he could just let everything with Mickey go, but the truth was, he really didn’t want to. He’d watched for years as Mickey and his brothers went around the Southside and treated others like shit.

And while it had been interested to watch from afar, he was now at the center of Mickey’s attention and it was...intoxicating.

It had started with Mickey’s desire to beat the shit out of him about the Mandy miscommunication. He had gone from just another Gallagher kid to sell weed to, to someone on Mickey’s radar. 

Now, Mickey was stealing from the Kash And Grab, way more than he ever had in the past. Sure, he stole shit, but he could steal from anywhere. Ian had heard enough stories to know that was true. He’d taken things once in awhile, but now it seemed to be every day, once Linda had left. 

Ian found that little detail to be a bit of humor in this fucked up situation.

Why was Mickey so focused on the Kash And Grab? 

Why not go down to the 7-Eleven near The L and steal from them? They were way bigger pieces of shit and had more food options.

He knew Mickey wasn’t coming by because he was still going to beat the shit out of Ian for ‘raping’ Mandy. He knew he wasn’t the reason why Mickey came to the store at all, at least why would he be? Mickey never seemed to notice him at all, unless he had money, drugs, or beer. 

The whole thing had been smoothed over quickly and quietly without Ian’s face needing to meet Mickey’s FUCK U-UP knuckles. That had been a week or two ago, plus the three of them had hung out a few days after Mickey had beaten the shit out of Lip. 

(As a way to make it up to Lip, Ian had produced a few finely rolled joints as a way to say sorry courtesy to Mandy.)

Ian had come over to hang out with Mandy who had gotten some good pot and invited him over. 

They had smoked in her bedroom and Mickey had stuck his head in, saw they were smoking, joined them until the joint was gone, then left to do whatever it was he did, so he knew they were cool.

And yet, despite almost being on good terms, Mickey continued to come around and make his and Kash’s life a living hell, especially with Linda who seemed to be perpetually pissed and the situation was only making it worse.

Ian thought Mickey was just picking on Kash because he got off on being a bully.

It was the only reason Ian could figure out why the brunette was taking an interest in the Kash And Grab.

The redhead didn’t understand Mickey’s sudden desire to show how much stronger and better he was than Kash, but he did understand his desire to get him to fuck off.

He wanted to make Mickey stop bully Kash; he wanted to stop him from taking advantage of the fact he was unwilling to fight back. 

Sure, Ian had known Mickey for years - since they were in Little League together - and up until a few days ago, Mickey was that guy he knew of, but didn’t really know. 

Now, things were different.

Mickey had hurt the man he thought he loved and Ian wouldn’t stand for that.

He wasn’t going to let some Southside piece of trash bully his boss-turned-secret-lover. He needed to make it stop.

The only way to do that was fight fire with fire and Ian didn’t mean pull a gun on him, even though his aim was impeccable.

At least that’s what he decided as he glared at Mickey who held chip dip in his hand outside the Kash And Grab. Mickey looked at him with his conniving eyes and taunted him with his sharp tongue. 

“You know where I live if you have a problem.” he said throwing the dip at him.

Quickly ducking, Ian glared at him in disbelief as he walked away licking his fingers. Kash handed him some cash and told him to replace the items. 

After a few minutes, Ian went, but as he replaced what Mickey stole, he began to plan his next steps to deal with the Southside piece of trash.

* * *

Ian fidgeted nervously on the front porch of the Milkovich residence. He was trying to keep a brave face, but his insides felt hot and twisted . He took another drag on the cigarette he’d bummed from Lip and then knocked aggressively on the front door. 

He was greeted with a smirking Iggy who was sucking on a cigarette and holding a beer in the other hand.

“Mandy, right?” he said pointing at Ian with lazy curiosity.

Ian hesitated, his carefully constructed plan already going to shit. He wasn’t planning on coming face to face with another Milkovich. He’d figured that he was just going to see Mickey or Mandy, if she was home.

In math today, she’d been going on and on about having some date with some cute new guy she’d been interested in. He hadn’t been paying attention much, too caught up in trying to figure out what exactly the Pathagrian theorem was and why it’s important, so he wasn’t sure if he’d run into her.

He didn’t expect any of the other brothers.

“Uh…” Ian stuttered out finally.

Iggy grinned, “don’t worry, you’re hardly her first.” 

Ian gave him a weak smile and moved toward Mandy’s room. He glanced behind his shoulder at Iggy and saw that he’d already disappeared. He turned back around and saw Mandy’s room down the hall and Mickey’s in front of him with a large home-made keep out sign. 

If he wasn’t so focused on his task, he would’ve smirked to himself at Mickey’s decoration skills. 

He moved to grip the handle and took a deep breath bracing himself for going on the defense when he saw the older brunette boy. 

Opening the door quickly, he found Mickey lounging on the dingy looking couch pushed against the wall of his room. His legs were bent and had fallen apart; his bare feet resting on the cushions. In his lap, a magazine was closed, a single finger holding his place.

Ian blinked rapidly as he took in Mickey’s murderous expression. He wondered why he was so pissed at getting caught looking at a magazine. 

“What the fuck, Gallagher?” Mickey snarled standing up and throwing the magazine on the couch. Ian saw there were guns on the cover, but his attention was quickly diverted away and he frowned at him.

“You need to stop stealing from the Kash And Grab.” he said trying to sound a lot more brave than he actually felt.

He watched as Mickey’s angry expression turned into a smirk. 

“You here to tell me off, Gallagher? You really took my threat of coming to my house as something serious to do? That’s ballsy, man.” He took a step closer.

Ian stood up a little straighter and glared at Mickey, “I’m here to tell you to fuck off. Seriously, Mickey, Kash is just trying to make a living.”

Mickey nodded slowly and eyed Ian, his gaze lazily sizing him up. He tilted his head slightly and said, “What are you going to do for me if I stop messing with Kash?”

“What?” Ian exclaimed, feeling surprised. If he didn’t know better, he would think that Mickey was coming on to him. 

His tone sounded almost...suggestive. 

The look in his eyes was almost lecherous.

He stared at him for a moment as Mickey’s smirk widened and he cocked his head a little more. He stared into Ian eyes and repeated the question in a tone that hinted exactly how smart he thought Ian was. “I said, firecrotch, what are you gonna offer me? You got some guns you want to give up? Some drugs you want to trade? What could I possibly get from you, Orphan Annie that I couldn’t get from any other dumbass in this fucking neighborhood?”

Ian felt the air deflate out of his lungs and he wanted to shake himself for ever thinking that Mickey Milkovich was coming on to him. As far as he knew, Mickey was as straight as a pole. He probably imagined that note of interest, since there was no other explanation for why Mickey sounded almost flirty. 

“Fuck you.” Ian snapped a little more aggressively than he’d intended.

Mickey grinned, “Get the fuck out of here, Gallagher, before I kick your scrawny ass.” 

Ian hesitated thinking about how he had already prepared himself for a fight. Besides, he wasn’t afraid of Mickey, especially not fighting him. He thought he was in better shape and he had his ROTC training on his side. 

“You don’t want me to kick the shit out of you just cause of that towelhead. Just go. I’ll pretend you were never here. Save your sorry ass.” 

Ian looked away from Mickey and his eyes found the magazine with the guns on the cover again. He stared at in as he weighed his options: fight Mickey or not to fight Mickey. 

He noticed, the more he stared, there was something that looked to be hidden in the magazine. If he wasn’t mistaken, there was a greased up, muscled arm that poked out of the gun magazine.

Ian blinked and tried to process what he was seeing. His stomach tightened as his brain began to deduce what could possibly be hidden in a gun magazine.

He only had one idea, but...that wasn’t possible...not _Mickey_.

“I said go.”

Ian looked up feeling a wave of shock flow through him as he processed what that small image could mean. Feeling out of sorts, he turned around and walked out, only really registering the fact that he thought Mickey might be gay.

But that couldn’t be right, could it? 

* * *

  
For a few days, all Ian could think about was the possibilty of Mickey being gay. He thought about most of the recent interactions with him and after searching through his brain, he couldn’t seem to pick out a single time that signified that the older boy was batting for the same sex.

He hadn’t had the opportunity to see Mickey since barging into his room or else he would’ve been looking for ‘signs’ and using his own ‘gay-dar’ to figure out if Mickey was like him.

From all of their past interactions, Ian would never have imagined that Mickey of all people was gay, but they lived on the Southside, so advertising that shit wasn’t an option.

He should know.

But then Mickey hit Kash and took the gun. He pushed all thoughts of that oily, muscular magazine arm out of his mind and focused on how he could get Mickey to stop fucking with his boss-turned-lover.

The way his stomach churned when he saw Kash’s new shiner was something he wasn’t going to take lightly.

Since he’d gone over to the Milkovich household last time, Mickey had stopped coming into the Kash And Grab while he was there.

Maybe he figured that Ian wouldn’t notice a large bruise on his boss’s face. 

Perhaps he was avoiding Ian altogether.

Whatever the reason, Ian was done with Mickey fucking stealing from the Kash And Grab. He was tired of hearing Linda bitch about it, but most of all, he was itching to wipe that smirk off Mickey’s lips with a well aimed punch to the face.

“Where’s Mickey?” Ian demanded as he stared down at a smiling Mandy when she opened the door and found him on the other side.

“Down state, he’s picking up our Dad from prison.” 

Ian pushed past her, feeling the adrenaline rushing through his ears as he hurried through the house and into Mickey’s room. His mind was raging with the desire to make Mickey pay for hurting Kash. 

He began to rip apart the room only focusing on finding the gun that he had stolen. He heard Mandy asking questions and telling him to stop, but all he could think of was finding the gun and making sure that it was back in the store before Linda noticed anything different. 

He knew that she was growing suspicious of something going on behind her back and finding the gun would be one less thing that she could use against them, especially now that she was referring to herself as the ‘eye in the sky.’ 

Ian didn’t want to think about how much more difficult it would be for him and Kash to fuck with Linda watching the cameras.

Although, at this point, he figured she probably already knew that the gun was gone. She’d been coming around more and more lately to give them a harder and harder time about Kash not being able to stand up to Mickey.

And it was getting harder and harder for Ian to listen to Linda yell at Kash and to watch Kash just take all of it without standing up for himself. Ian was starting to wonder if Kash had any backbone.

Mandy finally yelled his name loudly to get his attention.

“He hit Kash, okay.” 

He continued to rip through the drawers in the dresser in his room until Mandy grabbed his arm to get his attention.

“Just go. I’ll put it all back.” Mandy said quickly pushing him toward the door.

“Tell him, it ends now. No more messing with Kash and tell him I want the gun back tonight.” And with that, Ian turned around and stomped out of the house, ready to fight for Kash. Regardless of the consequences that a beat down from Mickey would bring, or the fact that he wasn’t sure when Kash became such a pussy.

* * *

  
Of course, it wasn’t done tonight. In fact, Ian had to wait until the next morning to end it, especially now that Linda had cottoned on to the gun being stolen and had installed cameras in the store, working ones. He was beginning to think all of his problems were laying enroot with Mickey. It had all started when he began to give them a hard time. 

If Mickey hadn’t started stealing from the store, then Linda wouldn’t have felt the need to install cameras and then Kash and him wouldn’t have to fear getting found out by her. He didn’t have a good feeling about the camera situation, but he couldn’t control it. 

The only thing he could control was finding that gun and, hopefully, the whole thing could blowover. At least, that’s what he hoped would happen. In his mind, he thought that if he got the gun back, then maybe Linda would lay off and Kash and him could continue being together. 

Ian knew it was wrong, but he loved Kash and Kash loved him. Linda was just...in the way. It wasn’t Ian’s fault that Kash couldn’t be who he wanted. Finding the gun and getting back at Mickey could be Ian’s way of showing Kash just how he could take care of them, how much he cared about him.

Picking up the tire iron that conveniently lay outside the Milkovich household, Ian advanced inside to find a sleeping Terry on the couch. He hesitated, feeling as if he were going into the lion’s den, but he’d come too far to turn back now. Advancing toward Mickey’s room, he twisted the knob and quietly entered.

Poking Mickey in the back with the tire iron, he watched as the brunette rolled over with a tired ‘what the fuck?’ 

“I want the gun back, Mickey.” Ian exclaimed in a hard voice.

Mickey rubbed his eyes, “Gallagher?”

“The gun.” Ian said again.

Mickey took his hands away from his eyes and muttered an okay. As Ian let his guard down, preparing to get the gun back, Mickey reached toward him and grabbed the tire iron. He pushed him to the bed and climbed on top of him. Ian attempted to get the upper hand, but Mickey had more gusto than he had anticipated. He wasn’t aware of what was happening other than he was being tossed around the room and then Mickey was on top of him again preparing to bring the tire iron down on his face. 

He closed his eyes for a brief moment, preparing himself for the pain, and then looked up to meet Mickey’s eyes. He had been so caught up in the moment, he hadn’t realized the position that they were currently in - Mickey’s legs spread apart and right on top of his shoulders, so his cock was in his face. He looked up into Mickey’s eyes from his position between his legs and then down to his manhood that, if Ian wasn’t mistaken, was becoming hard. 

He felt his eyes widen as he looked back into Mickey’s eyes and saw the lust that was pouring from him. 

Without a word, Mickey moved off of him and Ian began to take his shirt off without much thought. 

He seemed to go on autopilot as he began to strip himself of his clothes. He watched as Mickey mirrored him and he felt as if he couldn’t tear his eyes away from the other boy, afraid the moment would end or Mickey would change his mind.

When he was finished getting his clothes off, he was surprised to find Mickey as hard as he was. He moved to kiss him on the mouth, but Mickey quickly moved away, and grabbed Ian’s hand roughly.

“I don’t do that.” Mickey snapped putting Ian’s hand over his cock.

Ian was about to respond with some witty quip, but any retort left his mind as Mickey let a soft whimper escape from his lips as he began his ministrations.

Watching as Mickey closed his eyes and leaned into the movement’s of Ian’s hand, he smirked to himself in awe of the position he found himself in. He couldn’t believe that this was happening. It all seemed to be so surreal to be touching Mickey like this and enjoying it. 

Both of them enjoying it.

He moved forward, remembering at the last moment he couldn’t kiss him and then moved down to kiss his neck. As his lips touched the sensitive area behind Mickey’s ear, the brunette moved away.

“Just get behind me.” Mickey said, his voice raspy.

Ian complied and watched as Mickey held onto the end of the bed to bend over. Ian noticed that he had closed his eyes again and seemed to be bracing himself.

“Do you have any lube?”

Mickey seemed to tense up a bit and then nodded, “the top dresser drawer. Hurry the fuck up.” he added when Ian seemed to move too slowly for him. “If you move any slower, I’m gonna change my fuckin mind.”

Ian opened the drawer and looked through it until he found a small bottle of lube. He hurried back over to Mickey, put a little too much on his hands, and began to prepare the other boy for taking him in.

Mickey let out a low groan and began to push himself down on Ian’s fingers. Scissoring him to help him open up, Ian grasped Mickey’s shoulder to get in a better position. Moving his fingers a few more times, Ian withdrew his hand and positioned himself at his hole.

“Fuck.” he said suddenly realizing he didn’t have a condom.

“What? What the fuck? Just do it.” Mickey said aggressively.

“I don’t have a rubber.” 

“What the fuck. It’s not like we’re going to get pregnant.”

“But--”

“Stick it the fuck in, Gallagher, or I’m going to--”

Ian pushed himself into Mickey and they both groaned at the sudden contact. Ian had never ridden any of the two other guys he’s been with bareback, but he now understood why people risked it all for that feeling. 

Pushing his hard cock into Mickey’s tight ass hole was indescribable. He had never felt anything quite like this. Closing his eyes, he began to set a rhythm that Mickey quickly matched. The room filled with grunts and groans as they both moved together, each lost in the sensation of the other.

Ian’s grip on Mickey’s shoulder tightened and he moved his other hand to rest on his hips, wanting to keep him there forever. Breathing heavily, he gasped as Mickey pushed back into him in a manner that thrusted him even deeper.

“Fuck.” Mickey rasped breathing just as heavily. 

Ian felt like his eyes were going to roll back into his head. He had never felt anything like this before, not even with Kash, who up until this moment in time, he thought he loved.

He pumped a few more times and began to feel the warmth start in his stomach and spread throughout the rest of his body. His body was rapidly tensing up as he prepared to fall over the edge.

Ian wondered if Mickey was getting close because he certainly wasn’t going to last much longer. To hurry the process along, he reached forward and began to stroke Mickey like he did earlier. He only touched him a handful of times before he felt hot liquid slide down his fingers and Mickey let out a low moan as he pushed himself back against Ian as he came. 

Watching Mickey find his release and tighten around him was exactly what he needed to finally reach his breaking point. He felt the edges around his vision go black for a moment as his body welcomed the wave of pleasure that washed over him. He pulled out slowly, regretting the movement as he did it. 

Stepped back on shaky legs and then crawling onto the bed to get back his balance, Ian watched him go into the adjacent bathroom to grab a towel and start to clean up.

He turned away from Ian to start wiping off the slippery come that had spilled from his now flacid dick. The redhead watched him for a few minutes feeling the sudden heaviness in the room, regardless of the fact that he felt very light and energized from their recent actions. He had to bite his lip to keep from smiling as he watched Mickey.

He already wanted to do it again, but he wasn’t sure what Mickey was thinking after their encounter. 

All he knew was that he desperately wished he did know what the other boy was feeling, so he could make sure there was a second time, maybe a third if he was lucky.

“That was fucking...he trailed off not sure how to finish the sentence because Mickey gave him an unimpressed look.

“Yeah, yeah.” he said ducking his head as he wiped away any lingering come.

“Was that your first--”

“Listen, if you tell anyone about this--”

Ian looked at him in surprise, “I’m not out.”

“I don’t care. If you tell anyone--”

“I won’t.” Ian said quickly.

Mickey nodded and then dropped the towel, looking away from Ian and toward the bed. Ian watched as he contemplated getting in, but comfort seemed to win out and he crawled beside Ian, careful not to touch him. 

Ian wondered why he would be so weird about intimacy when they had just had sex, but he pushed that thought away to consider later.

“You know--” he started, but Mickey froze up as the door opened and Terry came into the room. 

They both tensed as he went into the bathroom. Ian could feel his heart hammering in his chest as they listened to Terry piss. He hesitantly glanced over at Mickey before quickly looking away, too afraid to move or say anything.

Ian tried to catch Mickey’s eye to know what to do if Terry noticed them, but the other boy was staring at the wall steadily avoiding looking at him. Terry left the bathroom, made a comment about them looking like fags and then left without a backwards glance. 

Quickly, Ian got out of bed and began to get dressed, trying to ignore the shaking of his body from the sudden adrenaline rush. 

He noticed Mickey was getting dressed as well and neither of them said anything until Mickey dropped the gun on the bed with a guarded look.

Ian moved in to kiss him to say ‘thanks’ - and if he was being honest because he wanted to know what Mickey tasted like - but Mickey moved away from him quickly, turning to go to the other side of the room.

“Kiss me and I’ll cut your fucking tongue out.” 

Watching him go for a moment, Ian shrugged it off. He didn’t want to push his luck with Mickey. If he didn’t want to be intimate, then Ian would wait until he did. 

When he was finished getting dressed, he left the Milkovich household with minimal damage and headed back to his house. A smirk settled on his face once he was away from prying eye as he replayed the sequence of events in Mickey’s bed. 

He guessed Mickey was gay after all, he just wouldn’t admit it to himself. But Ian didn’t mind if it meant that he got to experience another memorable fuck with the older boy. And maybe, eventually, he wouldn’t mind a kiss from Ian. He figured that there was still a little mystery to Mickey and he would look forward to unwrapping it.


	2. Monica

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mickey wasn't sure what was wrong with Gallagher, but he wanted to make it better. Set after Monica returns in season 1.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for the comments, kudos, and reading the story! I have to be honest, I spent most of my week re-watching multiple times the season finale. And it was amazing. I've watched that final scene again and again. I loved it. I'm a little afraid for season 11 though and what the writers could possibly do to them. Half of me just wants to end it on a high note...but that won't be the case. 
> 
> Anyway, I'm glad you guys enjoy the premise of the story! I'm enjoying writing it. I'm still a little nervous about the sex scenes, but those are fun to write as well. This chapter is season 1 and then I'm jumping ahead to the next season. Like I mentioned, the story is set throughout the series and I'm switching off with POV's, so this one is Mickey's. Let me know what you think! Enjoy!

Mickey was filing off the serial numbers from his father’s new stash - or recently-borrowed-without-asking guns - when the knock on the door came. He froze for a moment as his father looked up from where he stood near the fridge gulping down a beer. His cousin Jaime and his brother Iggy sat on either side of him doing the same thing he was, both stopping as they heard the knock.

“Who the fuck is that?” Terry snarled.

“You don’t think it’s the pigs, do you?” Jaime asked nervously.

“I just got back from juvie, that better not fucking be it.” Iggy said in annoyance.

“Mickey, go answer the door.” Terry said and he stood up and went to go answer it without much complaint. He was the closest after all and he needed a break from filing off the serial numbers. Besides, he was a little curious to know who would knock on their door. Most people just came in, some barged in, but few actually knocked.

His bet was on the cops, hopefully to take Terry away, but immediately after thinking that, he felt a bit guilty. Terry was his father, regardless if he liked him or not, he provided for them and taught him everything he knew. Even if Terry also taught him to hate himself for being...well, not liking women.

The first thing he registered about Ian Gallagher on the other side of the door was his anxious and desperate expression. He felt a pang of something warm his chest as he took in the redhead, but he shoved it down not wanting to look very hard into what that feeling or whatever was.

He had been bangin Gallagher for a few days now and he wasn’t hating it.

In fact, he really enjoyed it.

More than he’d ever enjoyed having sex at any other point in his life.

Up until Gallagher, he’d only fucked women.

He was by no means a virgin - Roxy Edgerton from 6th grade math class could attest to that - but he’d never fucked a guy before.

Sure, he’d thought about it.

A lot.

He watched porn.

And enjoyed it.

A lot.

He pleasured himself with his fingers pressing up to find his prostate when he knew that no one in the house was awake or there - in the dead of the night - so he knew what he liked.

He just...he just never really got that chance to do it with a guy. Terry had drilled into him for enough years that doing any of the things he imagined would get his ass beat so badly that he would be sent to the hospital, or be killed, all by his father. So he tried to hold in those impulses as long as he could.

Until Gallagher came into his room with that tire iron and looked up at him with those big green eyes and those pink full lips caught between his legs. And Mickey found himself really liking Gallagher trapped between his legs and looking up at him positioned right near his dick. And the look he gave him, was getting him hard, and Mickey knew the carefully constructed walls to block out all impulses to be with a guy were gone, just like that. 

He’d never really thought the guy he’d end up doing it with would be Gallagher of all people. 

A guy who was only memorable by his hair and who Mickey had never given a shit about, until Mandy told him that Ian had raped her.

Obviously, after the last few days, Mickey understood that wasn’t the case.

Would never be the case.

Mickey doubted Ian had even ever slept with a girl.

And by far would never hurt one intentionally.

But he had noticed during that time of Ian avoiding and hiding from him that he was a pretty attractive guy. And Mickey couldn’t help but consider that even more when Mandy told him the truth to get them to back off.

As Mickey wondered why Mandy told them the truth eventually and why she lied in the first place, he took the opportunity to really think about Ian Gallagher.

He knew he was redheaded - duh.

He knew he was obsessed with the army.

He knew he worked at the Kash And Grab.

And he knew that despite being an attractive guy, he’d never seen him with a girl. Besides his sisters and Mandy.

So he’d done some digging and got his sister a little drunk (or really, pretty fucking wasted) because she was still young and silly enough to let some vital information slip to learn more about the guy when he discovered the truth about Ian Gallagher.

He was gay.

And he was fucking the owner of the Kash And Grab.

Thanks to Mandy’s loose lips, Mickey was torn between curiosity and disgust at Gallagher fucking some 40 year old fuck who should know better than to take advantage of a 15 year old.

So for reasons he wasn’t interested in exploring, he started going to the Kash And Grab - some may say he was stealing from the store - because he wanted...well, he wasn’t sure what, but what he got was to finally let his desires come to fruition.

And he wasn’t complaining about any of it.

Except when Ian came to him looking like his world was burning and only Mickey could save him.

He didn’t like that feeling.

Not one fucking bit, especially because he worried that he might just _do_ anything to save Gallagher from whatever was making him look physically ill.

And Mickey wasn’t one to do that for just anyway - he protected his family and that was it.

Gallagher - as far as Mickey was concerned wasn’t family. He was just some easy fuck that Mickey had - luckily - fallen on.

Maybe, he was a _really_ good fuck.

But that wasn’t the point.

The point was he wasn’t interested in dating Gallagher.

He just wanted an itch scratched that no one else had been able to even land in the vicinity of. Ian just happened to be really good at getting to it. That didn mean anything.

Right?

“This isn’t a good time.” Mickey said tightly.

Gallagher’s expression turned more harried, “Please. I need to see you.”

Mickey could hear his father yell something and he felt his stomach quiver with discomfort at the idea of someone seeing Ian on his doorstep, especially his dad.

Would his dad be able to tell?

“I thought you were working today.” he said quickly changing the subject and trying to figure out why Gallagher was on his door in the first place, especially when Mickey was sure he was supposed to be at work. He had asked him the last time they’d banged about his schedule, so he’d make sure to come in when he was there and not when that brown-skinned fucker was. 

“I am. I’m supposed to be there right now.”

Mickey told him to get to work and he’d meet him there in 20 minutes, hating himself the entire way for giving in to his desire again. 

And maybe also for having to turn Ian away in the first place when a small - a very, very, very small part wanted to see what was bothering the other boy. That same part wanted to make it better.

He kept telling himself that this next time would be the last.

But he knew it was a lie. 

Just like he knew he’d do anything to wipe that look off of Gallagher’s face. 

And that very, very, very small part that cared wasn’t as small as he wanted it to be.

* * *

  
Gallagher left and Mickey went back inside trying to come up with some excuse to get out of filing off serial numbers.

“Who was at the door?” Terry asked.

Mickey shrugged, “Girl Scouts.”

Terry’s eyes narrowed glaring at his youngest son. “Fucking Girl Scouts? In this fucking neighborhood?”

Mickey shrugged again and took the pack of cigarettes up from the table. He slid a cancer stick into his mouth and lit it, carefully not looking at his father.

“What the fuck is this neighborhood coming to? Don’t those fucking yuppie parents know that we ain’t buying no fucking cookies from yogurt-eating little girls? Those cock-sucking con artist cunts.” Terry snarled taking another beer from the fridge.

They listened as Terry went on a rant about how the neighborhood was turning to shit and Mickey tried to bite his lips to keep from smiling at how easy it was to distract his father. He continued smoking his cigarette racking his brain for something that would get him out of the house. 

“I gotta go out.” he muttered loud enough for Iggy and Jaime to hear, but hopefully not loud enough to alert Terry.

“Where--” Iggy started to ask.

“Out.” Mickey said gruffly not being able to think of something that was plausible enough. As long as he distracted Terry though, he should be okay.

Jaime frowned, “what about the guns?”

“They’ll be here when I get back. They aren’t fucking pets.” And with that, he went to his room, grabbed his jacket, and slide his shoes on before making his way out of the house. Terry’s angry rants becoming muffled through the closed door.

He began to make his way down the street toward the Kash And Grab wondering when he had become so soft to be called when someone else asked him to come. He frowned at himself wondering why he was even going in the first place.

Sure, he was horny.

Regardless of how many times Gallagher pounded his ass, it never seemed to be enough. He felt like a bottomless pit that never seemed to be sated.

Well, that wasn’t entirely true. He felt at peace in the few seconds that he could let his guard down with the redhead right after they both found their release.

Ian would drape his taut, heated body over his, too tired from the impact of his orgasm and Mickey felt...not exactly complete, but a warmth he really didn’t understand would settle in his belly. It was like he was wrapped up in a snug blanket in front of a fire on a snowy day. Ian made him feel like someone in this shitty world actually cared if he was shot or sent to juvie or stabbed or whatever.

It was in those seconds that Mickey felt finally satisfied with himself, with Gallagher, with the world…

And then Gallagher would pull out and Mickey suddenly felt cold and reality came crashing down on him and he felt disgusted with himself for letting another man give it to him the way the younger boy did.

The self-hatred made Mickey’s stomach squirm, but he’d push it away because that was easier and then he wouldn’t have to think about what his father would do if he ever found out that Mickey...Mickey liked...well, he didn’t like girls.

* * *

  
Arriving at the Kash And Grab, Mickey walked into the store with his usual swagger and let his eyes slide around the store for Gallagher.

“Gallagher.” Mickey said not exactly loudly, but wanting to make sure he was heard.

“Key is in the lock.” Ian said from the freezer.

Mickey did as instructed and made his way back to where Ian’s voice had come from. He found the redhead sitting on a stack of Gatorade bottles that needed to be stocked.

“You came.” Ian said a hint of surprise in his tone.

Mickey shrugged and let a smirk come to his lips, “not yet, but I plan on it.”

Ian cracked a small smile - Mickey ignored that tiny victorious feeling - and got off the Gatorade bottles to advance toward him. He stopped in front of Mickey and stared into his eyes. He felt his mouth go dry as he met Ian’s lush green ones. When the burning gaze became too much, Mickey looked away to Ian’s collarbone poking out of his t-shirt.

They both stood there awkwardly, Mickey wasn’t sure if he should reach forward and rip Ian’s clothes off or if Ian was going to make a move first.

Ian was usually the one who initiated the first move. At least after that first time when Mickey had let go of his inhibitions and attacked Gallagher, seeking an opportunity he didn’t realize he wanted.

Mickey brought his eyes back up to Ian’s face and saw that there were unshed tears in his eyes. He looked down again, just in time to see Ian move his hand as if to touch him and then clench his fist as if he were trying to restrain himself. 

A part of him was glad that he had held back because he didn’t want to deal with Gallagher trying to be some soft motherfucker, but another wished that he followed through, so Mickey could pretend he didn’t want Ian caressing his face.

“Mickey, I--”

“Gallacher, come on.” he said wanting to make those shining green eyes less wet and those pink, perfect lips turn into a grin instead of a frown, a real one this time. 

He didn’t know what came over him, but he reached forward and took the hem of Ian’s shirt in his hands and lift it over his head. Without making eye contact, he leaned forward and gave him a rough kiss in the middle of his chest.

He felt his face turn red at how fucking stupid he felt for kissing another man’s chest, but he felt Ian’s arms encircle him into a loose hug and he felt encouraged on. He began to kiss sloppily down Ian’s chest until he got to the belt buckle. 

He made sure not to look up at Ian as he undid the cheap, faux leather belt and unbuckled his jeans. He gulped audibly in the quiet freezer. Much too slowly for his comfort, but his hands seemed to have stopped working, he pulled Ian’s jeans down and boxers until the cold air made him gasp. 

With a rush of desire, he bent forward and came face to face with Ian’s long, thick length already semi-hard.

He took a deep breath in, having never given before, but had received many; he placed his lips over the shaft and began to move his mouth up and down the way that he knows he personally likes, mostly because he wasn’t sure what else to do. He wasn’t sure if he was doing it right, but by the sounds Ian was making, he figured he was doing something correctly. He could feel Ian becoming harder and harder in his mouth under his ministrations until he pulled away with a soft pop. 

Pulling down his own pants just enough to expose his ass, he moved between Ian and the Gatorade stack he had been leaning against. He felt Ian’s hands on his hips as he moved him into better alignment and then he heard him moving around before two lubed up fingers began to circle his hole. 

Mickey was surprised to find himself already quivering in anticipation as Ian’s fingers began to play with him. He wondered dreamily if getting Ian hard was also increasing his excitement.

Ian’s fingers began to move in and out of him as he prepared him to be pounded. Much too soon, he felt his digits withdraw and he heard the sound of a condom wrapper. Mickey wondered where that had come from, but he wasn’t really interested in asking, only wanting to feel Ian’s cock inside of him.

Ian’s hands grabbed Mickey’s hips again and aligned them up before he pushed against the opening of his ass to stretch him out a bit more.

“You can slide in, Gallagher. I’m not a fucking catholic virgin on her wedding night.”

Ian chuckled softly and inched in until he was finally sheathed inside Mickey. When Ian’s hips pressed against Mickey’s ass, they seemed to sign in contentment together. Mickey chalked up the moment to them both being really horny, but a growing, now familiar warmth spread through him knowing that Ian felt as desperate to be with him as he did.

As Ian started to move, Mickey bent his torso forward and pressed his hips back even more to meet him stroke for stroke. 

“Wait.” Ian said suddenly.

Mickey blinked his eyes open and glanced over his shoulder at Ian looked down where

they had moments ago been joined.

“Can we move over there? It’s a better angle.” he asked gesturing to a rack filled with various produces.

Mickey rolled his eyes and made a big deal of moving over until he was gripping the side

of the metal rake and Ian was behind him again pressing his hips back into Mickey. Ian’s breath was coming out into huffs against the back of his neck and the hairs there were slowly rising up. 

He tightened his grip on the metal rake and leaned his head back a little feeling lost in the pleasure Ian was making him feel. He felt one of Ian’s hands move from his hips to around him to slither into the front of his pants. He tensed up for a moment as Ian began to stroke him in time to his thrusts. They had never done this before. Mickey usually began to touch himself as he got close, but he wasn’t exactly complaining either. 

“You like that.” Ian muttered leaning his forehead on the back of his shoulder and Mickey let his head loll back against Ian’s shoulder too lost in the pleasure to give a fuck what Ian was saying. 

He felt his body begin to tighten and the warmth begin to spread as he neared his release. He’d feel a little embarrassed at how quickly Gallagher was getting him off, but he was too lost in the cocoon of heat that was rapidly moving through his body. He almost didn’t notice the feel of Ian’s other hand moving from his hip to cover his own limb against the railing. The warmth turned hotter and his orgasm built higher and higher.

“Fuck...Gallagher.” he muttered and without warning he felt the weight move off of his shoulder and a gentle pressure press against where Ian’s head just was. 

As he was just about to come, he heard a sound behind them and turned right as Ian stopped moving.

“Fuck.” he said seeing the towelhead in the doorway of the freezer with a depressed and shocked look on his face. He hurriedly righted his clothes and ran out of the Kash And Grab as if he were running from the cops. 

All he could think of was that Kash would snitch and tell everyone he was batting for the

other team. He imagined his father beating the shit out of him as he called him a faggot. His stomach clenched as he went back to the store to begin to threaten the owner from telling anyone. If Kash knew his dirty secret, then he’d exploit Kash’s too. He’d wave the fact he knew all about how the pervert liked fucking underage boys. That would get him to shut the fuck up.

He wouldn’t realize until later that the pressure on his back had been Ian kissing his clothed shoulder while they had been fucking. And it wasn’t until way later (after the hospital and getting shot and then arrested) that he would wish - a tiny part would wish - that he had at least gotten to taste the redhead’s lips before he had to go back to juvie. 

He wasn’t sure when the next time he’d see Gallagher would be, but he’d make sure...he’d...well, he’d have to think about all the things he wanted to do to the younger man while he waited for his release date. He had hours and hours to kill after all and the redhead was always a star feature in his daydreams.


	3. Juvie

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mickey gets out of juvie. Mandy and Ian are there to meet him. Set early season 2.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for everyone checking out the story! I hope you guys are enjoying it. The chapter is set in the start of Season 2 and is in Ian's POV. I hope you guys like it. I'm not sure if I'll be able to update next week since I would like to write a val day one shot, so look out for that, but we shall see. Let me know what you think!

“Mickey’s getting out of juvie on Saturday.” Mandy said as she handed Ian the joint she had just finished rolling.

His head whipped up to look at her so fast, he heard a crack due to the sudden movement. He could feel his heartbeat began to pick up at that simple sentence and his mind raced with thoughts of being reunited with the brunette after being apart for so long.

“What?” he asked deciding to focus on taking the joint and not looking at Mandy. He was a little worried that if she saw the look in his eyes when Mickey was the subject of conversation, she’d know. Even though he knew it was a ridiculous thought, it still didn’t mean that it didn’t cause a drop of paranoia to settle itself in his brain.

No one could tell he was into Mickey. No one could tell that just by looking at him; just like no one knew what he was thinking. It was impossible. His feelings for Mickey were something he’d held close to his chest until...well, until…always. 

He’d never breathe a word of how he felt about Mickey because - because being gay in the Chicago Southside was a sure way to get killed.

That dull fear about being slightly different flared up as Mandy glanced over at him with a small smirk decorating her lips. 

His stomach swopped and he quickly looked over to the lone window in her room that was cracked open to let in the hot summer air. He swallowed thickly and told himself that she didn’t know that he and Mickey had a thing before he was sent to juvie.

“Mickey’s getting out, good behavior.” she said turning to her magazine and carelessly flipping through it. She had stolen it from the CVS on their way home from school. He realized with a spasm of relief that she wasn’t even paying in the least bit of attention to his inner turmoil. 

Mechanically, Ian brought the joint to his lips and inhaled trying to release the tension from his body and concentrating on what she had just said.

Mickey was getting out.

After six months in juvie,  _ Mickey was getting out _ . 

They could finally be  _ together _ again.

Well, as together as they had been the last time around.

So basically, Ian would jump when Mickey said so.

And they’d continue to hide in the freezer at the Kash And Grab and steal quiet, quick moments in either of their bedrooms or in abandoned buildings that dotted their neighborhood like a herpes outbreak on the mouth of a prostitute.

While it wasn’t Ian’s preferred method to hook up, it was the only option they had. And he’d take anything Mickey tossed at him.

Elation dipped into Ian’s stomach as her words nestled in his brain like a cat snuggling up to its owner and he looked down at the joint to hide the smile he knew was blossoming across his face. Despite the hesitation he felt about being kept a secret, he let himself think about what it would mean for Mickey to be out and back around the neighborhood.

Back around  _ him _ .

Would Mickey want to pick up exactly where they had left off? 

Ian figured they would, but what if...what if Mickey changed his mind? 

What if he found some other fucker to give it to him good inside that shithole detention center?

What if Mickey didn’t want him anymore?

He had visited Mickey exactly three times in juvie. The first time Mickey seemed almost glad to see him. The second time he had bruises covering his face and it was hard to see him like that, behind the glass and not be able to touch him. He had been moody and sullen - more than usual during that visit. But Ian was glad to note that he wasn’t on crutches anymore after Kash shooting him. The third time Mickey had told him not to come back because he didn’t want anyone getting the wrong idea about them. 

About him.

He told Ian that he didn’t need him staring at him like some lovesick puppy, waiting around for him to finally be let out of his cage.

Ian had left juvie that day feeling sick to his stomach and hurt that Mickey wasn’t as glad to see him as he was to see the brunette. He had considered going to find some anonymous guy to make himself feel better, but the idea of anyone touching him besides Mickey made his stomach clench and the sick feeling increase.

He supposed it probably didn’t help that he tended to think that Mickey hung the moon. 

And how exactly could he find someone to compete with that?

He didn’t think anyone noticed the way he looked at Mickey, everyone was always so self involved, but that didn’t mean the older boy didn’t notice. Maybe that’s why it was so easy for him to be dismissed. Mickey knew he’d come back, just like Ian knew no matter the mean words Mickey said, he didn’t really  _ mean _ them.

He knew that Mickey was just afraid of anyone finding out about them because he was afraid to be who he was.

And Ian couldn’t exactly understand that, but he did respect it. 

He was lucky enough to have a family that didn’t care about who he liked in his bed. 

Mickey was a different story.

At least, according to Mandy’s description of her shitty father.

When it came to their neighborhood though, Ian completely understood where Mickey was coming from.

If Mickey didn’t want people to know, then Ian would make sure no one found out.

Because he cared about Mickey and didn’t want him to feel hurt or scared or fearful. Even if Mickey didn’t give a fuck about him, he wanted to make sure he felt safe when they were together.

Besides, Ian sort’ve liked it just being the two of them in on this little secret. Sure, he also wanted to scream out loud and brag to everyone that he was with Mickey, but also it was nice when they were in on something together.

Ian liked having a secret with Mickey, it made him feel...special.

It made them feel like something more than he knew Mickey saw them as.

Granted, Lip knew, but his head was shoved so far up Karen’s vag, that he didn’t notice anything that wasn’t Karen-related.

And while on several occasions, Ian wished that he could show Mickey off and call him his boyfriend and brag to his siblings about having found someone who was so amazing, he also knew that Mickey wasn’t ready for that.

But Ian knew, eventually, someday, hopefully soon, he would be ready to be with Ian 100 percent without anything holding them back.

“Do you want someone to come with you? It’s a dangerous neighborhood, you know.”

Mandy snorted and rolled her eyes, “it’s just a train ride away. Besides, it’s not like I can’t handle myself.”

“So? Don’t you want the company?”

Mandy grinned at him and then shrugged going back to her magazine. “I won’t say no to the company, Ian.”

Ian smiled to himself as his mind began to imagine Mickey’s surprise when he saw him waiting for him outside of the detention center he’d called home for the last six months.

The redhead imagined that he’d smile at him, maybe give him an affectionate punch on the arm in greeting. Perhaps, he’d even call him ‘Ian’ when their eyes met.

“Have you talked to him recently?” Ian asked curious to know if he should know anything before they saw each other.

“Not really. He’ll talk to Iggy sometimes, but mostly, he just calls to make sure that we remember to put money in his commissary for smokes. We try, but sometimes we don’t have the extra funds.” Mandy said flipping a page.

Ian stared at her for a moment taking that in. Kash had only put enough money in to make sure Mickey wouldn’t come after him when he got out and Ian had tried to scrounge up some dollars to send to him, but he knew it wasn’t enough. 

Despite the fact that Ian knew that his dad was an asshole, at least he knew that Mandy and Iggy were stepping up to make sure Mickey had what he needed.

“Oh.” Ian said for a lack of anything else to say. He passed the joint to Mandy and she took it gratefully.

He watched her for a moment before he turned to his own magazine - Men’s Health that he’d swiped - but his mind was too full of the fact that Mickey was finally getting out and they would be reunited.

* * *

The sick feeling in his stomach was from a mix of apprehension and nerves. He had to smoke a cigarette as he waited with Mandy outside of the juvenile detention center. He was making casual conversation with her, not paying attention to the conversation since his mind was on how any moment he’d see Mickey. 

In the days since he’d found out Mickey was getting out of juvie, his concern about what happened next seemed to grow stronger and stronger with each passing day. Now, he was filled with a mix of happiness to see Mickey again and anxiety that he wouldn’t want to pick up where they had in the past.

And while Ian wasn’t keen on being a secret, he’d prefer having a small amount of Mickey to nothing.

He’d had no Mickey for the last six months and while he was still doing what he needed to, the world had lost some of the shine to it that Ian hadn’t noticed until the shorter boy had started coming around.

After what seemed like forever, the doors opened and Mickey emerged and immediately zeroed in on Ian.

“What the hell’s he doing here?” 

Ian could feel the smile settle on his lips as he said, “hey Mick.”

Mandy answered Mickey’s question as he eyed Mickey with attempted casual interest.

He watched as Mickey gave him a quick once over before stopping in front of his sister and pulling her in for a hug. He felt a twinge of jealousy in his stomach and the elation he’d been feeling faded a bit as he watched the male Milkovich embrace his sister. The jealousy turned his stomach and he considered the fact that Mickey wasn’t afraid to show affection for his sister, but Ian knew that he’d sooner punch the younger boy in the face than accept a hug from him as he left juvie. 

Or any prison or jail for that matter.

Or really anywhere at all, except if they were completely by themselves.

Even then, Ian doubted that Mickey would be okay with Ian touching him in such an intimate and caring fashion.

Ian tried to push the bitterness away and focused on how good it was to see Mickey, after all of this time.

He finally saw the Southside piece of trash that he secretly called his own for the first time in months and he was moping about the fact that he’d rather hug and show affection for his sister, than even accept a warm greeting from Ian.

The heat in his stomach intensified as he thought about all of the things they could do together now that it was summer and Mickey was out and finally free. 

He wondered if Mickey would want to go to a White Sox game or sneak into the movies to see whatever summer blockbuster film was playing.

Perhaps they could go smoke pot in one of the parks around the city or steal 40s from the 7-11.

Ian allowed a brief daydream of them walking around Navy Pier and enjoying a carefree afternoon, just the two of them, without having to worry about money or family or all the bullshit that seemed to sic itself to their lives.

He felt his smile brighten a bit as he focused on what they would get to do now that Mickey was free.

He watched their back and forth, the truth of Mickey finally being out allowed the heaviness in his chest to subside. He felt like he could breathe again at last. 

Mickey began to flick everyone off as they began to walk away and Ian couldn’t take it much longer, he needed to touch him. So in an attempt to be smooth, Ian reached for Mickey and wrapped an arm around his shoulder. He wanted to tighten his grip around Mickey, but he attempted to keep it light and tried to pass it off by reaching for Mandy too. The simple gesture made the tips of his fingers feel electric with finally being able to touch Mickey again after such a long time, but all too soon, the contact was gone when the brunette shrugged Ian’s arm off.

Ian let his limb fall away and it felt suddenly empty and cold, despite the heat of the sun beating down on them. He allowed his arm to stay around Mandy, before dropping off too.

He tried not to let Mickey’s obvious distaste for Ian touching even the smallest part of his shoulder to bother him, but the redhead couldn’t help it. 

It had been so long since he’d seen Mickey, since they’d touched, even the small amount that Mickey would allow them to. He felt like a dying man presented with water and food before he finally drew his last breath. But he reminded himself to be patient and eventually, he’d find that salvation.

* * *

They went back to the Milkovich house and unsurprisingly, Mandy produced a joint for them to smoke. They sat on the porch and passed the joint around, each taking a long hit. Ian listened as Mandy and Mickey continued their back and forth banter. He smiled slightly to himself as he suddenly wished for his own siblings, regardless of how often he saw them. 

They heard yelling inside suddenly and Mandy was called in by Iggy, leaving Mickey and Ian alone for the first time in months.

“Make a lot of friends in juvie?” Ian asked taking a hit of the joint before passing it to the brunette.

Mickey snorted, “you don’t make friends in juvie. You meet people who can, you know, help you procure things.” 

Ian nodded slowly and settled his arms on his bent knees. “Nothing’s really changed since you were gone.”

Nodding, Mickey took a hit of the joint and passed it back, “good to know, man.” 

They sat in silence for a bit until Mandy came back looking pissed off and sat down on the step above them. “Brothers are the worst.”

Ian laughed and turned his head to tell Mandy something snarky when he caught Mickey staring at him with a soft smile on his lips. When they made eye contact, Mickey immediately looked away and out towards the street as if he’d been looking that way all along.

Ian turned away too and tried to concentrate on what Mandy was saying, but a warmth he started associating with Mickey settled in his stomach and he couldn't stop the smile from blossoming across his face. 

His fingers itched to reach out to him, but he clenched his fist to stop himself from stretching out and touching the smooth, pale skin of Mickey’s arms or touching the expanse of silky skin on the back of his neck that dipped below the collar of his cut out shirt. 

“Mandy!” Iggy screamed breaking up the easy atmosphere that had settled around them. Mandy scowled and jumped up, hands turning into fists that hit against her thighs in anger.

“Fuck off, fuck-face.” Mandy snarled stomping inside.

Ian and Mickey watched her go inside and then both avoided looking at the other as they found themselves alone again.

“What do you think Iggy keeps wanting?” Ian asked for lack of anything else to say.

Mickey shrugged and glanced over at Ian with a cocked eyebrow, “you got a cig?”

Ian nodded and handed his pack over. He watched as Mickey light a cigarette and lean back on the steps. 

“What are you doing tonight?” Ian asked quietly.

“Enjoying being free.” he responded smirking.

“Want company?”

Mickey eyed him and allowed the smirk to widen into what Ian would consider was a seductive look. 

“Bring beer?”

Ian smiled, “always.”

Mickey nodded and took a drag off his cigarette before handing it over, making sure that their fingers brushed. 

At least, Ian figured that’s what Mickey had done intentionally.

“Meet me on the corner at 9.”

Mandy came back out then with an even more pissed off look on her face. She wedged herself between them and Ian watched as Mickey sat back and held out his hand in an unspoken manner to ask for his cigarette back. “Fuck Iggy, do you know what he wants me to do?” 

Ian didn’t pay attention to Mandy as he watched Mickey bring the cigarette to his lips and blow out a cloud of smoke. He turned away eventually and allowed himself to sink into the moment, but he couldn’t settle the twisting of his stomach and the hammering of his heart. 

He couldn’t wait to hang out with Mickey later. When it was just the two of him, and he could finally touch him the way he craved to do since he’d seen the brunette step into the sunshine.

When he passed the cigarette back to Ian behind Mandy’s back, he watched as their fingertips brushed and even that small touch sent his stomach to his toes. He wondered how such a person could have such an effect on him, but he figured that this was just Mickey. 

That this was just  _ his Mickey _ . 

Forever,  _ his Mickey _ .

He made sure when he passed the rapidly declining cigarette back to Mickey, that his fingers lingered a tad longer than the last time and he swore he saw the older boy smirk fondly out of the corner of his eye.


	4. Fear

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mickey and Ian' first kiss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who is reading, kudoing, and commenting! I really appreciate it! I'm really enjoying writing this story and am glad people are liking it. If you have feedback or have a specific request, then please drop a comment! They are very much loved. 
> 
> This is from Mickey POV.

“He’s not afraid to kiss me.” Gallagher stated scrunching up his eyes against the sun and looking up at Mickey sitting on the broken plateau above him.

They had just finished Gallagher’s army training session and not for the first time, he was pushing Mickey’s fucking buttons.

He sucked on his cigarette and chose to ignore the redhead’s comment; instead, tightening his grip on the gun in his hand.

It wasn’t the first time Gallagher had brought up Mickey’s disinterest in kissing him and he knew it wasn’t going to be the last. 

In fact, Mickey thought that the younger boy was just going to continue pushing him until he got what he wanted.

Secretly, Mickey had wanted to kiss Ian for longer than he was willing to admit, but taking that step...Gallagher wasn’t wrong when he assumed that Mickey was afraid to kiss him. Lately, it seemed to be getting more and more frequent that Firecrotch brought up wanting to finally take  _ that _ step. 

And Mickey didn’t hate it.

Well, he did in the sense that he was tired of Gallagher’s never ending nagging, but he didn’t hate the idea of finally giving in to something he’d wanted for so long.

What he did really loathed was the fact he couldn’t just let go and allow himself to finally give in. 

It was silly when Gallagher’s dick had plowed into Mickey’s asshole on more occasions than he could even count, but the thought of finally taking that plunge and accepting the fact that he was attracted and wanted the ginger made his heart freeze in his chest and his stomach drop to his toes.

So yeah, he was scared to finally kiss Ian.

He was afraid of someone seeing them.

He was afraid of what it would mean when he  _ allowed _ Ian to kiss him.

More importantly, he was afraid of  _ liking _ it.

Perhaps, liking it a bit too much. 

To the point where he didn’t want to stop.

Maybe, he’d never want to let the redhead go when he found out what he tasted like. 

Mickey made sure the gun was on safety before moving to jump off the roof and landing in front of Gallagher.

“You think I’m afraid to kiss you, Gallagher?” Mickey taunted making sure to put on his tough guy front, the one that he frequently used around the younger boy when he was pushing him beyond his comfort zone. 

Like when Ian had visited him in juvie after the towelhead shot him or he tried to kiss him after the first time they fucked. He figured the tough guy approach would keep Gallagher in his place, but all it tended to do was get him a knowing smile.

Gallagher knowing him so well was becoming less irritating to Mickey as time went on, but it still was annoying that he wasn’t backing off when he approached him with that fuck off attitude that drove so many other people away.

Firecrotch raised an eyebrow in a challenge motion and Mickey tossed the cigarette in his hand on the ground in front of him.

“I’m not afraid of anything.” Mickey added taking a step closer to him.

Gallagher looked him square in the eyes and the unwavering intensity made Mickey’s stomach squirm in anxiety. Against his better judgement, he took a step closer so that the toes of their shoes touched leaving just a few inches between them.

Mickey made sure to keep his eyes on Ian when he spoke next. “Ever think that I’m not here to kiss you? Maybe all I want is a good fuck.”

The area between Gallagher’s eyebrows crinkled and he studied Mickey with a searching look that he knew pretty well at this point.

It was the one he always got after Mickey put on his tough guy attitude. It was the one that always proceeded the knowing smile he gave him when he realized that Mickey wasn’t as serious as he liked to think.

“I don’t believe you.” Gallagher muttered finally.

He inched in even closer until he could feel Ian’s breath against his face. He watched as his eyes flickered down to his lips and he could see the temptation in his face. A part of him almost wanted him to lean down and kiss him, so he could end the torment that resided for too long in his body, but he was trying to prove his point that he wasn’t interested in kissing Gallagher, he just wanted to fuck.

That was it.

But even Mickey knew he was lying to himself. That didn’t mean he would drop the act.

“Truth hurts, don’t it?” 

Mickey saw Firecrotch’s body sag at his words and then he shouldered past him and out of the abandoned building. He knew that if he didn’t leave now, then he wouldn’t be able to resist kissing Ian’s plush pink lips.

* * *

Even though they’d been hooking up for two years now, Mickey had never allowed Ian to kiss him, he’d come close. However, every time, the brunette had put a stop to it before they could ever close that distance between them.

It had started when Ian had tried to kiss him after they fucked that first time and then after that there was an unspoken agreement to ignore the lips. When they were in the heat of the moment, Mickey sometimes allowed Ian’s body to cover him, or like that one time grasp his hand as they neared completion. 

And Gallagher had seemed okay with that, for awhile. At least, until Mickey had recently gotten out of juvie. 

Mickey knew Firecrotch’s newfound pushiness probably had something to do with him knowing he had fucked off back to juvie to avoid having  _ that _ conversation with him. 

You know the one.

The one that basically defined what they were or where they were headed.

Just the thought of it made him feel sick.

Essentially, it was a ‘feelings’ conversation or even it could’ve been seen as a ‘coming out’ conversation, but Mickey didn’t want to deal with that. 

Frank had seen them and all he needed to know was how to fucking end him. How to get him to shut up, but he was even too fearful to do that shit. 

Instead, it was just easier to punch the cop and go back to juvie. At least there he was safe from Terry and whatever hell he’d cause when he found out that Mickey liked it up the ass like some pussy. 

But when he got out and saw Ian fucking that nameless Asian army-wannabe, he somehow knew that this time with Gallagher was going to be different. 

And it was.

Ian was pushing him further than he had before, especially when it came to finally crossing that very thick line Mickey had so carefully drawn in the sand.

* * *

The first time Ian had stepped over the invisible line Mickey had drawn it was the second time they had fucked after he had gotten out of juvie the most recent time. For once, everyone was out at the Gallagher household and Firecrotch had brought him up into his room. 

He was rambling about ROTC training and Mickey was listening more intently to than he was letting on. 

He tried not to listen too closely though because the idea of Ian leaving Mickey for some faraway non-existent place in his mind made his stomach hurt.

Once they had gotten into the bedroom Gallagher shared with his brothers, Mickey pushed Ian toward the bed, but the now more muscular and taller ginger resisted and they ended up wrestling with each other. 

It was playful and flirty and Mickey had gotten hard faster than he had thought possible. But then again, that tended to happen around Gallagher. The younger boy had pushed him down to the bed and straddled his waist, holding Mickey’s hands above his head.

Grinning down at him, Ian moved closer and closer until Mickey could almost taste the sweetness of his lips on his.

He felt his eyes flutter closed and just as he did, he saw his father behind his eyelids beating the shit out of him when he found out that he was a fag. He pushed Gallagher away from him suddenly and he fell to the side looking at him in confusion and what Mickey uneasily identified as hurt.

“Mick, what--?”

“Are we here to fuck or not? I’m not trying to get caught by another member of your fucking family, Gallagher.” 

Ian frowned and Mickey stood up purposefully turning away from the readhead before pulling his pants down. He heard Ian shuffling behind him and after bending over at the waist slightly, Ian grabbed his shoulder hard and began to pound into him none-too-gently, but Mickey didn’t care. He wanted it to hurt.

* * *

The second time Gallagher tried to kiss him was the day he tried to get his money back from Sanchez after he fronted the little tweaker some blow. 

He had been looking at him weirdly after scaring the shitty fucker away. Mickey had been so confused when he saw Ian looking as if he were studying him, as if he were searching for something in his face and it left him feeling strange.

He wasn’t sure what the redhead was looking for, but having him stare at him like one of those math problems he was always asking him for help on, didn’t make him feel too good about himself.

“What the fuck are you looking at?” Mickey had asked finally turning to Ian and giving him a sidelong look.

He didn’t know why Gallagher would be looking at him in that way, but it unnerved him and he didn’t like Firecrotch unnerving him. 

He didn’t want to associate Ian with anything negative since he was such a light in Mickey’s life. When Mickey felt lost or uncertain or a little nervous about something, he just had to look to Ian to make him feel as if he could do anything because the redhead made him feel as if anything was possible in this shitty world.

“Nothing, nothing.” Ian said turning away and falling into step beside him.

He cast him another sidelong look and walked a little faster to get to his next destination. He had a few other loose ends to tie up, but Gallagher seemed to want to continue to slow him down. 

“How much money do people owe you?” he asked as they went back outside to cross the track and head for the boy’s locker room. It was a short cut and he knew - thanks to the office aid being a secret pothead - that his next victim was finishing up gym.

“Enough for me to spend my time collecting it.”

He saw Gallagher raise an eyebrow out of the side of his vision and he slowed down and stopped in the middle of the track. Thankfully, most people were already heading inside to get ready for their next class.

“Why don’t you go to class? Don’t you have Westpoint or whatever to get into?”

Ian grinned widely and took a step closer to him, “so you do listen?” 

Mickey grimaced and turned to continue crossing the track. “It’s hard not to when all you’re doing is yapping.” 

He heard him laugh behind him and then the sound of jogging feet across the tarmac. “How many people owe you?”

“A few.”

“Why don’t you just tell--”

Mickey whirled around and moved to stand in front of Gallagher who had been lagging behind. He poked Ian hard in the chest and looked at him with what he hoped was a ‘fuck off’ expression.

“I got shit to do and I don’t want you slowing me down, especially when you see what I have planned for them.”

Firecrotch frowned and took a step closer, the laughter leaving his eyes. “What does that mean?”

Mickey shrugged casually and let his eyes flicker to his lips for a fraction of a second. He hadn’t realized how close they were until he could see the moisture on Ian’s lips. He bet that he tasted like cigarettes and something sweet.

“It means that I don’t what you slowing me down. I’m a one man debt collector.”

The amusement returned to Ian’s eyes and he leaned forward slightly, his gaze still searching Mickey’s like he was looking for something. “You’re always with your brothers or cousins.”

“So?”

“So, you don’t work alone. I’ll back you up. I just want to make sure you don’t get in trouble again.” Ian said the last part softly and it did something weird to his stomach.

“You won’t pussy out?” Mickey asked hesitantly.

Ian smirked and glanced down at Mickey’s lips, longer than Mickey had looked at Ian’s.

“If I do, then I’ll suck your dick later.”

Mickey cracked a smile and allowed his gaze to linger on Ian’s soft pink, lips. The ones he’d been thinking about more and more as of late.

Mickey’s gaze moved back up and saw a vulnerable look in his eyes that he’d only seen once after Ian had come to his house when his mom was back in town. 

“Fine, but don’t stop me from beating anyone up.”

Ian laughed and the sound made Mickey’s heart begin to race, “As if I could stop that from happening.” He took a step closer and Mickey knew that he wanted to kiss him. He could plainly see the desire penetrating Ian’s gaze and into his. His eyes were searching again, but they were filled with something Mickey couldn’t recognize and maybe he didn’t want to.

Instead, Mickey imagined Ian leaning in and giving him a kiss on the lips to end the conversation, like a couple would, like Mickey so desperately wanted him to. 

He thought that maybe if he didn’t take the first step, then maybe Ian would and then perhaps it wouldn’t be such a big deal.

But Ian didn’t kiss him; they were still in the middle of their high school track. 

And they were looking to pursue violence, not create love.

Although, Mickey was warming to the idea of the second option, but the fear wrapped around his heart and twisted itself into a whisper that said: not yet.

* * *

The third time that Ian tried to kiss him was right before Mickey had found out about the geriatric viagroid Ian was trying to make him jealous with.

Yeah, he knew Ian’s con, but that didn’t mean the jealousy dissipated. 

But it did make the hurt knowing Ian was seeing other guys on the side lessen a little. 

After spotting him with Asian GI Joe, Mickey had hoped that Ian wasn’t fucking anyone else, but the fear of not being exclusive, propelled him straight into the large, saggy arms of Angie Zahgo.

If he couldn’t make Ian jealous with a man, then he’d do it with a woman.

He knew that Ian was only fucking this old dude to fuck with him, just like he was only fucking Angie to get at Gallagher. 

He knew this. 

He wasn’t sure how, maybe it was the impossibility that someone like Ian would enjoy fucking old men, but he did. 

Just like how he knew that Ian knew that he wasn’t serious about Angie.

Or at least he figured that was the case.

Still that didn’t mean he wasn’t affected by it. 

Just like he knew that Ian was upset over the whole Angie Zahgo thing, but the reality was that as hurt as Ian may feel about Mickey fucking women, it was nothing in comparison to how Mickey would feel if he lost him because of some shithead finding out he was gay and telling everyone about them.

So he had to keep up appearances.

Because somewhere inside him he began to not only worry for himself, but also for Ian. He knew Terry would try to kill him, but also, he’d lash out at Ian too.

So the easiest person to fuck would be Angie Zahgo.

Or at least tell everyone he fucked her.

In reality, they just smoked and drank beer while watching her little siblings. He gave her pot to get her to keep her trap shut and he enjoyed the knowledge that everyone thought he was straight.

But Ian didn’t know that and Mickey could read the clear jealousy across his face just like he knew Ian could probably see his. 

Neither of them would admit to it, so their frustration with the other came to a boiling point while they were finishing up their shift and got into it about how Mickey was stocking the shelves.

“It always takes twice as long to close up because you don’t do it right.” Ian had said in frustration as he circled the shelves to find errors.

Mickey snorted and began to count the money in the till. “Fuck off, Firecrotch. I’m not a stockboy, I’m security.”

He heard Ian laugh meanly, but he didn’t turn to say anything until he finished counting the drawer out as they prepared for the shift change. He lifted his head and frowned when he didn’t see Gallagher.

“Gallagher?” he called into the silence. He frowned when he still didn’t see or hear Ian. He moved around the corner to the other side of the counter and then the air was knocked out of him when Ian pushed him against the back wall making shitty $10 headphones and a few chargers fall to the ground at their feet.

Ian’s hands were pining Mickey’s wrists above his head and he was looking straight into his eyes with a fiery expression. The green bored straight into Mickey’s soul and he felt the air catch in his throat making his stomach tighten.

He wanted to say something, but he wasn’t sure he’d be able to utter a sound. The look in Ian’s eyes was intense and daring and Mickey knew he was waiting for Mickey to make a move.

When it became evident that Mickey had frozen in place, Ian moved away and gave him a crestfallen look. “ROTC training.”

And then he turned and walked out of the store right as the night guy was coming in. Mickey hadn’t bothered to learn his name, he was only interested in one guy who worked at the Kash And Grab and he had just walked out of the door. 

Mickey hurried to follow after him, intent on keeping up.

* * *

The fourth time was after he had beaten up Ian’s old boyfriend. It wasn’t surprising, the fire between them was becoming hotter and Mickey knew it was going to explode or burn out. Maybe do both. It was almost exhausting to be this into someone. 

But for whatever reason, even before he realized it, he’d chosen Ian.

While he knew Ian was trying to make him jealous. When he followed the redhead after leaving the Kash And Grab and saw him with the old man, Mickey couldn’t help the jealousy that bubbled like boiling water in his stomach. The tiff at the Kash And Grab earlier had been just the first shot.

He went to the nearest gas station to buy some beer, intent on making himself feel better. But instead, the alcohol only made him feel worse and lessened his desire to go after Ian.

He wanted to wait until the redhead was by himself, but when he and the old man left almost arm and arm from that fancy restaurant, Mickey knew he’d probably never step foot in, he felt something in him snap.

Ian with another man.

Ian trying to prove he’s better than him.

_ Ian with another man. _

Was Ian interested in other men?

Did Ian want other men?

Was Ian done with him?

He didn’t realize what he was doing until he punched that old guy in the face and then started ragging on him, but then Ian was trying to get him to run and they were racing through the Chicago streets.

Mickey felt high on life and he loved it.

When they stopped running, Mickey made his move and they chased after one another until they got to one of the many abandoned buildings they fucked in.

Mickey pushed Ian against the crumbling wall and grinned lecherously at him.

“You got any fuck in you or are you turning into those boring viagra-popping fags you love to fuck so much?” Mickey mocked.

Ian pushed him back a smile blossoming across his face, the same one he gave him when he got out of juvie, both times.

“You jealous?”

“Hardly. I don’t get jealous, Gallagher. And you better watch yourself.” Mickey added as an afterthought, at least to try to seem intimidating. 

Ian moved closer to him and gazed at him with such a look of longing that Mickey felt something in his stomach quiver.

Unlike the other times, it wasn’t sexually charged. In fact, it was almost a little sad, the way Ian looked at him.

Mickey almost wanted to just kiss him to make it better, but his own fear stopped him from physically choosing Ian.

Even if his mind was already there.

He moved away and they fucked with Mickey facing the wall feeling Ian’s gaze bore into the tops of his shoulders.

* * *

_ At least, he’s not afraid to kiss me. _

The words were stuck to Mickey like chewing gum on the bottom of his shoe. Ian had finally taken it a step further and verbalized the fear Mickey held close to him and he couldn’t seem to shake it.

Initially, they had never spoken about Mickey’s lack of desire - or really fear of - to kiss Ian. 

They both knew he wanted to.

Or at least, Mickey thought that Ian knew he wanted to.

The fear comment solidified that,  _ didn’t it _ ?

As the days passed, Mickey couldn’t digest any other words besides the ones Gallagher had taunted him with. It wasn’t until he finally saw Gallagher again did he realize this issue wasn’t going to just drop.

He had a feeling that the more Ian became involved with these old men, the more he’s going to realize that Mickey’s just not really worth it. Ian would realize that being with him would be his greatest mistake. Because unlike these guys, Mickey had nothing to offer Ian. Instead, the trying to make Mickey jealous act was going to fall by the wayside, and Ian would actually begin to like these men.

Because they gave him stuff.

And they weren’t afraid to kiss him.

As they prepared for their crime, Mickey considered what he could offer Ian. He knew it was time to do something about it - either end it or finally give Ian what he wanted.

That was all he could offer Ian, the opportunity to see what Mickey chose.

And he already knew that mentally and emotionally he chose Ian, but what about physically?

He was too focused on the fact his stomach was a stringy mess waiting for the perfect moment to get Ian alone, instead of focusing on robbing the old man’s house.

He had to wait until his cousins were gone and there was no one around before he could make his move. Backtracking after they left the van, Mickey ran into the open door, and zeroed in on Ian who was getting ready to smoke a cigarette. Without thinking, he planted a hard kiss against Ian’s lips taking a mental note of how truly pink and plush and fucking perfect those lips were.

He made sure the kiss was short for too many reasons to count.

Mainly, he wanted to make sure his cousins didn’t notice him missing.

But also because he knew if he didn’t keep it short, he’d realize how fucking gone he was for this sweet ginger boy that smiled beautifully at him and wanted to keep him close for reasons Mickey would never understand.

He left before Ian could respond and for good measure, Mickey flicked him off to make sure that Ian didn’t think this was going to become a thing.

He still had a line that he didn’t want Gallagher to cross.

Most of the time.

Also, he knew that when he moved away from Ian that all he wanted to do was kiss him again and again. But Mickey knew that wasn’t possible. They didn’t live in a place where things like happy endings occurred.


	5. Sleepover

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ian and Mickey have a sleepover.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow! You guys are fantastic! I'm so glad that you're enjoying the chapter! I'm loving writing this so far. I want to thank everyone who is reading, commenting, and kudoing! Your feedback means so much to me! It's been a shitty week, so it's definitely been a highlight. 
> 
> Just a head's up, I'm going out of town this week, so I don't know if I'll have time to write the next chapter, so chapter 6 may take longer. 
> 
> Thank you again and please drop a comment to let me know what you think! Or if you have a specific scene you want to include.
> 
> This is from Ian's POV.

Ian sometimes felt like Mickey was his lifeline, his anchor. When everything else seemed to be falling apart, Mickey was the only thing making him feel like he had it together. 

Like, in the end, everything would be okay because Mickey was on his side (even though he wished that he was  _ by _ his side and open about it).

Sleeping in some large room on a lumpy mattress with a bunch of other distraught teens made him wonder if he’d ever get back to his neighborhood again, back to his life. 

Back to Mickey.

But having the ability to go to work, where Mickey was, where he knew Mickey would be, helped keep him centered as he and his siblings went through the trials and tribulations of dealing with the system.

_ Again _ .

He remembered the last time they had been in the system and how afraid he’d felt without Fiona looking out for him. Thankfully, he had Lip, but when you’re 12 years old and wanting comfort, it’s easier to turn to your older sister with tears in your eyes rather than your 14 year old brother who was just as afraid as you were.

The weird peeping Tom was their last brush with the system and while nothing ever happened to him or Lip, it was the  _ possibility _ that always lingered with him and made his hackles rise up every time anyone looked at him a little too long.

He knew that it would all work out because it generally did for them, but that didn’t mean he felt great about what was going on. 

At least he had Lip.

And he was 15 this time around instead of a scared 12 year old kid.

The first few nights they were in the boy’s home he stayed up for most of the night, thinking about Debbie, Carl, and Liam. 

He worried that they didn’t have each other the way that he and Lip did.

He worried about Fiona and how she was going to make sure that everything turned out okay in the end.

And he was worried about what he’d come back to if he was gone for too long. He wondered what Mickey was getting up to when he wasn’t around. 

Had he taken to fucking Angie Zahgo more frequently?

Was he getting his kicks elsewhere?

With some other guy?

Obviously, Mickey didn’t seem to care for any exclusivity, judging by his actions with Angie. But Ian had realized - after Mickey had beat the shit out of Ned when he saw them at The Fountain - that he easily became jealous.

Or maybe it was protective?

Ian didn’t know. 

But he thought a lot about how upset Mickey had been when he saw him and Ned together. While Mickey had violent tendencies, he didn’t normally beat the shit out of someone without a good reason.

Ned’s interest in Ian was the only reason that made sense.

And Ian didn’t exactly hate the idea of Mickey being jealous of him when he was with another guy. 

He kinda liked it.

It was the first real sign that he felt like he’d gotten from Mickey that said he liked him, at least a little bit. Even if it was in the way that was pretty alpha-dominated.

Mickey beating Ned up was very much like he was staking his claim - and Mickey was staking his claim on Ian.

But Ian would take what emotions he could from Mickey, even if it was more violent than he would’ve liked, but then again that was  _ his Mickey _ .

It wasn’t like they were going to discuss feelings.

Or at least neither of them had made any effort whatsoever to ever do that.

It was easier to  _ show _ their feelings.

And Mickey had done exactly that be demonstrating how upset he was about Ian being with Ned.

And Ian had done that by pushing Mickey because he wanted something more - something  _ real _ \- with him.

Maybe he wasn’t being very mature either, but he really didn’t know how this relationship shit worked.

All he knew was that he liked Mickey.

A lot.

He wanted to spend time with him.

A lot.

And he didn’t want whatever this was with him to end because, well, he was pretty sure he was in love with him.

Or at least pretty deeply obsessed.

* * *

Mickey’s voice snapped him out of his thoughts as he stacked the vegetables in the back of the store.

He glanced over at the door and saw him coming in, throw his backpack full of drugs and guns behind the counter, then advance toward Ian.

“Where’ve you been?” Mickey said looking at him with guarded eyes.

“Boy’s home.” he said turning to him.

Mickey’s gaze softened and then he turned away to jump in to start helping him.

“You okay?”

Ian looked down at the vegetables in his hand, “Yeah...I guess.” 

There was a long pause as they both let that sink in and then Ian spoke up. “We have more deliveries, they’re in the back.” he said by way of making conversation.

Mickey muttered an ‘okay’ and they got to work, neither saying much. It wasn’t too much later when Ian finally broke the self-imposed silence and began telling Mickey how gross the place was. He told him about the other boys, the weird smell around the place, how Lip was always working to make sure they were okay, and the lack of privacy.

“You fuck anyone in there yet?” Mickey asked avoiding his gaze on the pretense that he was working, which Ian knew he was, but also probing into how he was spending his time with a bunch of other boys. 

Ian wondered if this was another jealousy thing or if Mickey was just checking to see where he was dipping into. Maybe he was just practicing self sex...

“God no.” he said automatically because he wasn’t. In fact, even though Mickey seemed to be okay with Ian fucking whomeever he wanted, he didn’t really  _ want _ to fuck anyone else.

Besides trying to make Mickey jealous and it working, Ian didn’t have the  _ desire _ to be with anyone else.

Not some rich guy.

Not some guy from school.

It was just Mickey he wanted and it was a need that seemed to escalate instead of decrease as time went on.

Sure, Ned was around and had texted him on a few occasions. Then there were some guys at school who were always secretly side-eyeing him. But after Mickey got out again and Ian had made his point about showing Mickey he wasn’t waiting around for him, even though he actually was, Ian had pretty much been a one man-man. In fact, even with Ned, all he’d done is flirt a bit since Mickey got out. The only guy he’d been with since he’d gotten out had been Mickey, even if he had been sleeping with  _ girls.  _

So starting to sleep with illiterate delinquents in a boy’s home wasn’t what he was going to spend his time doing, even if Mickey didn’t care either way. 

Because even if Mickey didn’t care, he did. 

And he wasn’t going to fuck around on the guy he really wanted, unless it was to make him jealous of course, and even then, he had limits. 

He only half listened as Mickey began to talk about the homophobes in the boy’s home. His focus was on how he knew that - where he’d learned that from - but instead, Mickey surprised him.

“Hey my dad took my brothers on a run out of town for a few days, so if you want to ditch that shithole and crash at my place, you can.”

Ian’s heart began to race as he thought about what Mickey was asking. Was he...was he inviting him to stay the night?

He remembered when Kash had invited him over while Linda was gone and how freaked out he had gotten because of the weird goat smell and the fact that he was fucking a married guy.

But he doubted that he’d get freaked out with Mickey. He trusted Mickey, he grounded him. 

And he wasn’t married.

He felt a slow grin spread so widely across his face it began to hurt, “was I just invited to a sleepover?”

“Fuck you is what you were invited to.”

Before he could stop himself a deep nervous laugh erupted from his belly and it was all he could do not to jump around in joy. 

He lifted his head to search the store for Mickey and saw a subtle grin gracing his lips, which made Ian’s smile grow impossibly larger. He made a mental note to kiss him hard on the lips when they had a moment alone.

It would be their second kiss since the van and he couldn’t wait.

* * *

Ian couldn’t believe his luck as he headed back across the Southside to his neighborhood for his sleepover with Mickey. He had traded places with Mandy who, thankfully, hadn’t asked too many questions about where he was going. When he’d brought up the idea of switching with Mandy, Lip had immediately found someone’s palm to grease and had - even better - not asked any questions other than when he was planning on leaving.

Staring out The L window as he made his way across town, Ian couldn’t quell the feeling of excitement in his belly at the thought of spending the next 12 hours alone with Mickey. This would be the longest time they’d ever spent together outside of working or fucking. This was something Ian was keen to focus on since he wondered if Mickey only wanted him as a booty call.

At first he hadn’t minded, but as time passed and the months turned into years of them fucking all over ther Southside, he realized that he wanted to get to  _ know _ Mickey. This wasn’t just a booty call to him anymore.

He was pretty sure he...well, he loved the brunette. 

His knowledge in that statement seemed to solidify more and more with each passing day. And he grew to be more comfortable with the fact that he was 110% in love with Micky Milkovich.

With that realization, he decided he wanted to get to know Mickey, really get to know him. He wanted to know the dumb stuff like his favorite food or favorite movie to the really intense stuff like what it was like growing up with Terry or when he realized he was gay.

He tried to engage him in conversation, but Mickey only seemed to want to fuck. Ian figured he could use this sleepover as an opportunity to enjoy each other’s company. While this wasn’t technically a date, Ian could use it as a chance to get to know the brunette on a deeper level. Something more than just fucking. 

He already had the whole thing planned out in his head. They’d watch movies, eat dinner together, fuck until they were both too tired to move, and for a little while, it would just be them against the world.

He wouldn’t have to worry about being in a boy’s home. Mickey wouldn’t have to fear being found out. For the night, it would be them  _ together _ . 

He arrived at the Milkovich residence and knocked on the door. Quickly, Mickey’s face appeared on the other side, a cocky smirk on his face.

“Fuckin’ took you long enough.”

“Had to wait until light’s out.”

“Well, then you’ll have to deal with my dinner choice - pizza rolls.”

Ian’s felt his lips split into a grin as he pushed into the house and closed the door behind him. He watched Mickey turn away and walk back toward the kitchen. He couldn’t help his gaze trail down to linger on the brunette’s round ass. He licked his lips subconsciously and then went into Mickey’s room to put his stuff down. When he went into the kitchen, Mickey gestured at the fridge as he placed the pizza rolls carelessly on a dirty pan.

“Help yourself, man.” 

Ian stared at him for a long moment wishing that he had the gumption to reach forward and grab Mickey for a hard kiss him on the mouth. 

He hadn’t had the chance to kiss him since the van - either there were people around, it wasn’t the right time, or Ian kept talking himself out of it. Even though he wanted to more than he’d ever wanted to do anything before, he wasn’t sure how to initiate small touches with Mickey. 

He imagined tasting those sweet lips again and running his fingers through the soft strands of dark hair. He thought about caressing his tongue against Mickey’s and trailing his fingers across the smooth expanse of skin on his neck. He daydreamed that his hands moved south to his waist to pull him forward, so they were flush against each other...

He’d only gotten a taste when they kissed in the van and he desperately wanted to do it again. 

It was all he had been thinking about, which was a feet when he had to deal with DCFS and Mickey getting shot in the ass. He had found himself thinking once or twice or five times about Mickey’s lips as he sat in Chemistry or English.

It was distracting.

And he wanted to do it again, just to prove to himself that it wasn’t the best feeling in the world - Mickey giving himself over to him in this very intimate way.

As he stood in the kitchen even now, he envisioned pushing Mickey up against the fridge and pulling him so close that he could feel the heat he gave off. He imagined touching that smooth skin under his shirt and his stomach quivered in anticipation. He tried to push the image out to focus on the moment, but the idea of them sharing a kiss made his heart race. He wished once again that he had the courage to kiss Mickey without worrying about how he’d react.

Just then the brunette turned around and raised his eyebrows at him.

“Yo, Orphan Annie, grab a beer and help me pick a movie. I was thinking some Seagal...” Mickey said snapping him out of his daydream.

Ian stared at him, “you’re a Segal, fan? I might have to leave then…” he joked making Mickey turn around and give him an astonished look.

“You’re  _ not _ a Segal fan? What the fuck, man? Who do you like? Shitty Stallone? Fuckin’ Van Damme?” Mickey asked appalled.

Ian laughed moving around him to get a beer out of the fridge. Any residual doubt or nerves he had about this sleepover being awkward diminished like the laugher escaping his body.

“You’re giving me shit for liking Van Damme? Seriously? You like Segal!” Ian called back to him with his head in the fridge.

He heard Mickey laugh behind him and when he turned back around with his beer in hand, he noticed how close the brunette had moved toward him. If he took just a step closer, he would be almost pressing Ian against the fridge. 

Ian longed to close the distance between them, but he held back. He desperately wanted to kiss Mickey, especially now that they were alone for the first time since before Mickey had gotten shot by Ned’s psycho wife. While he was glad that Mickey had finally crossed that line and they could begin to move forward, he wasn’t sure how he would react to him attempting to make the first move. 

It was silly when they had, had sex more times than Ian could count, but he never knew how Mickey would react sometimes. 

When he began pushing Mickey, he never actually thought he’d ever cross that line and kiss him. While Ian had daydreamed about a possible future they could have together - where they held hands and did boring shit like go out to eat and go bowling or whatever couples did - he never thought it was possible.

When Mickey kissed him, he realized that anything was attainable as long as he was with the older boy.

But that didn’t mean that he knew how he felt about him. Ian knew he was fucked for Mickey Milkovich, but he had no idea if his feelings were reciprocated, especially because he was still learning how to read him.

How would Mickey react if he kissed him?

It was still such new territory between the two of them, so it could really go any way. He couldn’t remember the last time that just kissing someone meant so much to him. He wasn’t sure if it ever had.

“How did I not know you were into Van Damme...I wouldn’t have invited you over if that was the case.” Mickey said smirking at Ian.

It took him a moment to realize that the smirk Mickey was tossing at him had notes of flirtation in it. He also noticed that Mickey didn’t take a step back, so he took a step closer, so they were toe and toe.

He had to test the waters, but he was beginning to think that making the first move wouldn’t be a completely shit idea and get him thrown out of the house.

“There are lots of things you don’t know about me, Mickey.” Ian said and he internally winced at how deep and suggestive his voice became when he was trying for light and funny.

Mickey ducked his head, but not before Ian swore he saw him blushing. He watched as Mickey moved into the living room and dug out a pack of cigarettes from a pile of gun magazines on the coffee table. He lit one up and then moved toward the TV to find a small pile of action movies stacked around it.

“So obviously since your taste in movies sucks, I’ll be choosing the entertainment for the night.” Mickey called out behind him.

Ian moved into the living room and took a cigarette from the pack to light up. “I think you got it mixed up, your taste in movies is shit. I say, we vote.”

Mickey burst out laughing throwing a few movies on the coffee table. “I vote Under Seige, Firecrotch. What do you say?”

Ian shrugged carelessly trying to play cool, but in reality, he felt like his heart was going to rip out of his chest. “What else you got?”

“Not fucking Van Damme.” Mickey said taking a sip of his beer.

Ian made a show of rolling his eyes, “you know Van Damme can totally fucking kick Seagal’s ass.” 

Mickey coughed on his beer and opened his mouth to respond when a ding went off from the oven. Ian watched as he moved back toward the kitchen and he moved forward to the large television to pop the video again.

“You are out of your mind.” he called from the kitchen.

Ian laughed enjoying the back and forth they had established. He hadn’t realized that this was what he was craving until he found himself in the middle of it. He felt excitement filter into his stomach as they sat down together on the couch and the movie started, he saw out of the corner of his eye Mickey look at him. He returned the side eye glance and smiled to himself when he saw Mickey’s own grin. He realized that maybe he did like him as much as Ian did.

And now, understood what Mandy had meant about that look in his eye because he saw a glimpse of it in Mickey’s.

* * *

Thirty minutes into the movie, with the pizza rolls demolished, and two beers a piece emptied, Ian began to get impatient. He had been wondering, probably since they started the movie who was going to make the first move. Obviously, he wanted to, but he wasn’t sure if Mickey just wanted to get right to fucking. 

In all honesty, all he wanted was to kiss him. Of course, he wanted to fuck him too, but mostly, he just wanted to taste his lips again. 

“Want another beer?” Mickey asked cutting through Ian’s thoughts.

He looked down at the almost empty one in front of him, “yeah, sure.” 

Mickey got up to grab them another beer and Ian struggled to find the courage inside to make the first move. 

He told himself when Mickey came back, he’d kiss him. 

It would be easy. 

All he had to do was lean forward and close his eyes...he had nothing to feel nervous about.

But he also said that the last time Mickey got up to get them their second beer. They were almost halfway through the movie and all they’d managed to do was smile (in Ian’s mind, almost shyly) at each other. Ian was ready to touch him, but he still wasn’t sure what was okay and not okay with Mickey.

“Here.” Mickey said handing him the beer. Ian felt his stomach flip when their hands touched and he wished, not for the first time that he had enough courage to reach forward.

He glanced up from the beer that had transferred to his hand to find Mickey looking down at him with a hungry stare. 

Their eyes locked and Ian swore he could almost feel the electricity crackle between them. Without knowing who moved forward first, they met somewhere in the middle with Ian half standing and half sitting and Mickey straddling him. 

Pulling him closer, Ian was semi-aware of the fact that Mickey had basically fallen on top of him and was pining him to the couch. He heard a dull thud and somewhere in his subconsciousness registered that they had dropped the beers that only moments ago had seemed like a good idea.

Now, touching each other was more important.

Their lips slid together clumsily until they could find a rhythm both of them could enjoy and then Ian’s hands locked on Mickey’s hips to keep him exactly where he was. 

He liked the heavy pressure of Mickey on top of him.

They were on each other so quickly, Ian felt like his head was spinning from the sudden change in demeanor.

Tightening his hold on Mickey’s hips, he pulled him impossibly closer until he could feel Mickey’s hard on press against his own. He allowed his hands to trail across the sliver of skin between his pants and the top of his shirt that had been exposed and Ian swore he felt goosebumps rise.

It was better than he imagined, the silky smooth skin was softer than he thought it would be. Mickey’s lips were sweeter and the heaviness of the brunette in his lap seemed to light a fire inside his belly.

Mickey pulled away suddenly and looked down at him with eyes that were dark and beautiful and Ian wanted to gaze into them forever.

“Wanna take this into the bedroom?” he asked staring down at Ian.

Ian nodded feeling too tongue tied from the taste of Mickey to actually articulate anything. He smiled lazily instead and then grabbed the scruff of Mickey’s neck and pulled him in for another kiss, halting any action of moving before he could end the warmth that seemed to spread through Ian’s body at the older boy’s touch. 

He thought he felt Mickey smile against his lips, but he was too caught up in the fact that they were just able to enjoy kissing each other without having to be concerned with anything else.

It was just him and Mickey against the world. 

* * *

The next morning Ian woke up pressing Mickey against his chest. He leaned in and dropped his forehead against his shoulder to breathe in his scent before loosening his grip around him. He rolled onto his back and looked at the ceiling already missing the warmth of him pressed against his chest.

He smiled to himself and turned to watch Mickey sleep - looking beautifully peaceful - as he allowed the night before to play through his mind. 

He wished he could bottle up last night and keep it with him forever. He wished that he could remember this feeling every time he wondered if Mickey genuinely loved him because, this, right here, was the closest he’d get to perfection with Mickey. 

For a moment, and only a moment, he allowed himself to wonder what it would be like to wake up every morning like this; pressed skin-on-skin against Mickey, the ability to be free with each other, to feel like anything could happen, and nothing would bother him if the shorter boy was by his side.

In just a few hours, he’d look back on this feeling and wonder if he’d ever feel free again - if  _ Mickey _ would ever be free. 

For a brief moment, he had a taste of his future - of  _ their _ future - and he knew that in the days and months and years to come, he’d think about what he could’ve had with Mickey Milkovich if Terry had never found them.

Hours after he had gotten the chance to finally feel as close as possible to Mickey, it had been torn away from him like a piece of paper ripped in half and fluttering away in the wind. Little did he know, even after he went to work in a daze after watching what had transpired between Mickey and the whore, his heart would feel perpetually torn and broken for a very long time. 

But it would feel even worse when he realized that Mickey wouldn’t even look at him in the weeks that followed.

As they neared Mickey’s wedding to the whore, he felt frozen in loneliness, depression, anger, and grief for a future that they could’ve had together. With each passing day, Ian squeezed tighter and tighter to that feeling - that perfect night of possibility, it was the only thing that reminded him that Mickey  _ did  _ care, that they  _ did  _ have something, that he didn’t imagine how he felt about him, that he couldn’t possibly fake what they had together. 

Now, instead of daydreams about kissing Mickey, he thought about waking up with him every morning. He dreamt about making breakfast together and doing other domestic shit, and those thoughts, for only a moment, seemed to warm him.

But those daydreams were fleeting and reality would crash back around him bringing a pain that burned white and hot in his chest and belly. The only soothing balm was the fact that Ian  _ knew _ after that morning they had woken up together for the first time that Mickey did love him, in his own fucked up manner, that maybe they could be free, he just had to believe in their future. Even if as he watched them get married any hope of that future burned to ash.


	6. Loneliness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mickey misses Ian. Set end of season 3 and into season 4.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know it's a bit later than my usual Friday night update, but I was on vacation.
> 
> Quick warning: Mickey alludes to dealing with the rape.
> 
> Thank you everyone who read, commented, and kudoed the last chapter! I love that people are loving this as much as I am writing it. I also really appreciate the very beautiful compliments! I'm glad it's meeting your guys' expectations! 
> 
> Some of the dialogue is taken from the show, so just another disclaimer: no one belongs to me. The dialogue you recognize is from the show.
> 
> Next chapter will deal with Ian's bipolar, so if you guys have any feedback/suggestions, please let me know! 
> 
> I hope you guys enjoy chapter 6! It's a sad one.

“The Russian is pregnant.” Terry said coming to stand in front of Mickey and blocking the TV he and Iggy were playing video games on. Mandy sat on the stolen broken down recliner balancing a plate of fries against the armchair.

The moment Terry had walked through the front door, Mickey had frozen in fear of what he was going to do to him today. He sensed his other two siblings freeze as well, which wasn’t surprising since they were all terrified of him, Mickey moreso within the last month.

Since  _ that  _ day, Terry had barely looked at Mickey, instead, choosing to voice his disapproval of his attraction toward the male persuasion with fists and words that sliced deeper than the physical injuries that decorating his face. If he had to say anything to Mickey, it was generally through someone else, like Iggy or Mandy or Colin, when he was around.

Mickey didn’t think his father could become more unbearable, but he’d been wrong.

The thing was, Mickey could handle all of that, it was when he brought Ian into it that made him snap.

“Who?” Iggy asked taking the cigarette out of his mouth and squinting at Terry. 

Mickey wasn’t sure if he was trying to break the silence or was just too stoned to care to see Terry’s mood before jumping into the deep end with the sharks.

“Not talking to you, shithead.” Terry said and then nodded at Mickey, “you, fag, Svetlana is pregnant.”

There was a long silence as all three Milkovich children took that in.

“Who is Svetlana?” Mandy asked looking between her brother and her father.

Mickey wasn’t sure why Terry was telling them this. Svetlana, he figured was the whore that had...that had…

But who cared if she was pregnant?

“Who gives a shit?” Mickey asked avoiding looking at his father and instead looking at the frozen video game on the screen.

“You should, you little cocksucker. It’s yours.”

The silence that followed that sentence was even longer and quieter than the original one. 

Mickey could feel both of his siblings eyes on him, but he focused on the TV in front of him. Neither of his siblings or his cousins or anyone else knew about what Terry had done to him and Ian. It was just between him and Terry. Both Mandy and Iggy figured that Terry had just been in a really bad mood with Mickey - hence the nicknames, the frequent ass kickings, and the isolated behavior.

It wasn’t hard to piss Terry off.

Sometimes, his father didn’t even need a reason to beat the shit out of him, he just did because he could.

“No.” Mickey said finally looking at his father.

The silence in the room was grating as father and son glared at each other.

“Mandy, Iggy, get the fuck out.” Terry said finally.

Mickey didn’t have to look at either of them to know they were hurrying out as quickly as possible. The door closed loudly behind them and he waited with baited breath as Terry advanced toward him and grabbed him by the scruff of his t-shirt. He felt the collar rip a little, but he refused to back down as Terry’s hot, rancid breath drifted over him.

“You know I can and will break your jaw, Mikhailo, if you ever fucking tell me ‘no’ again. You’re marrying that whore and you’re going to be a father to that child. I don’t give a fuck what you want, no son of mine is going to be a fag.” Terry threw down Mickey’s collar and then slapped him across the head as a warning.

Mickey swallowed the fear that was bubbling up in his chest and Ian’s face slid across his mind as the reality of the situation sunk in.

“How do you know it’s mine? You can’t--”

“ _ I’m _ saying it’s yours. Just like  _ I’m _ saying you’re never going to see that redhead fag fucker ever again. If I ever see you so much as talking to him again, I’ll rip out each of his teeth and shove them down your throat.” Terry threatened.

Mickey opened his mouth, but Terry cut him off.

“You’re marrying that whore or I’ll find that Gallagher fuck and throw his dead body in the lake.” 

As his words sunk in and Terry left the house, Mickey felt an icy feeling expand throughout his body,. 

For a moment, he allowed himself to ache for the redhead. He just wanted Ian, but he was gone - he had to be.

And Mickey was still here, headed exactly down the road Terry had built for him. 

* * *

In the days that followed, Mickey sought solace in the abandoned buildings Ian and him fucked in. 

He found comfort in bottles of stolen whiskey and shooting bullets at homemade targets to allow the anger to slither out of him. 

He couldn’t be at home. 

School was a joke.

He didn’t have a job anymore, so the abandoned buildings became the next best place to hang out - or hide.

It took awhile, but finally, Mickey was able to shove down the memory of Terry forcing Svetlana on him at gunpoint and Ian watching.

It took weeks and a lot of drinking, but the image was slowly buried deeper and deeper. 

The thing was though, now that Svetlana was pregnant, he had to relive that day in his mind again and again.

And then he had to learn to bury the memories again when some small thing popped up - or sometimes, nothing at all.

Maybe it was the memories that lingered in the crumbling walls of him and Ian fucking, but they seemed to calm him until it became dark and cold and he had to make his way home.

He shouldn’t have been surprised when Firecrotch found him the first time, but he was. He couldn’t look at him. He didn’t want to see the pity in his eyes or be reminded of a life he’d never had. But more importantly, he was scared of what would happen if he  _ looked _ at him.

Scared he’d break down and cry.

Scared someone would see them and he would unknowingly sign the redhead’s death certificate.

And scared that he wouldn’t be able to go through with the sham of a marriage because he’d see the boy he really wanted and think anything was possible.

That  _ they _ could somehow figure a way out of this shitty situation.

* * *

The second time he was found by Ian, he felt angry that he couldn’t get the hint. Why couldn’t Gallagher just leave him the fuck alone? Why did he have to continue coming around when he wasn’t interested? At least, he tried to pretend that he wasn’t interested because he figured that it would be easier to forget the redhead. 

Instead, Gallagher lounged against the wall and tried to get him to look at him with some funny quips, but Mickey focused on the shooting target, just like last time.

Eventually, he gave up and walked away.

With him, Mickey felt like he took a piece of him away.

* * *

  
He was finding it more and more difficult to ignore him and he knew that if he continued coming around, especially now that he knew the score with Svetlana, it would be harder and harder to resist him.

It was that third time when Ian came to look for him and snapped did he finally feel himself comeback to life. 

It was the white hot anger that slithered through him and clouded his vision. All the anger toward his father and the hatred of what he was finally got to him. The anger had been lying dormant for weeks now, since  _ that  _ day and he finally had to let it go.

He wasn’t sure who he was more angry at; Terry, Ian, himself…

But the rage was there and he wasn’t sure how to express it besides lashing out because it was easy and he understood the violence.

“Is it true? You gettin’ married?” Ian called to him across the room in the abandoned building.

Mickey scoffed to himself at the tone in Ian’s voice and he wished he could tell him the truth - Terry was making him get married and he was doing it to protect Gallagher.

For reasons, he still didn’t feel comfortable enough to explore.

“So who is it? Angie Zahgo? Some other piece of trash, so you can pretend I don’t matter to you.” Ian added when Mickey didn’t say anything.

He looked down and he wished he had the courage to open his mouth and tell him that he never meant to make Ian think he didn’t care...he just...he just…

Ian shattering a bottle broke him out of his revere and he let out a loud ‘what the fuck, Gallagher!’ 

“Oh, he speaks!” Ian snarled.

Mickey could feel his anger churning in his stomach, so he took the easy route yet again and left the building before he did something he’d regret. 

“So that’s it, we’re over. Your dad beats the shit out of us and you’re just going to get married, no conversation, nothing”

His frustration with Ian wanting him to say his true feelings and be his true self bubbled to the surface, especially when he grabbed him.

Mickey wasn’t sure if Ian was trying to push him over the edge or kiss him, but he didn’t want to be touched.

He hadn’t been touched since  _ that  _ day.

And he was afraid - always afraid - of what Ian’s touch would do to him.

Because he knew, if he tried to kiss him, then he’d break. If he pushed him too far, then he’d crumble. 

If he kissed him, then he’d respond because that’s what he desperately wanted to do -  _ needed _ to do. 

That comfort only Ian could give him was something he craved and had been thinking about non-stop since Terry pointed that gun at him and made Svetlana mount him like the two bit whore he’d only ever see her as. 

He wished his easy response to be violent came as simply to him as Ian kissing the pain away and ensuring those memories were shoved to the side forever; that going back to that house and facing his father, marrying the whore, and becoming a dad was some nightmare his brain had cooked up. 

He wished his ginger could make it all go away without any trouble. 

But this was his reality, so instead of grabbing Gallagher and pulling him closer, he pushed him away because it was easy.

Because it was painless to be violent than show how he truly felt for Ian.

“Get the fuck off me.” he exclaimed wanting to keep him at a distance.

“So now you want to fag bash? That make you feel like a man? Go ahead, do it.” Ian yelled.

He felt the heat of anger rise in his belly at his words and he wondered vaguely what Gallagher’s motive was. Did he want to be hit? Did he want him to admit that he...cared about him a lot? 

His fingers itched to make those pretty, pink lips that he loved so much stop talking, but the idea of hitting Gallagher made his stomach hurt.

The look in Ian’s eyes was fierce and he knew if he didn’t act now, then he would continue taunting him. 

He just wanted him to stop talking, so he could take the easy way out and pretend Ian didn’t matter, that  _ that  _ day didn’t matter, and he wasn’t fucking up his entire life by following in his dad’s footsteps.

He punched him in the stomach before he knew what he did.

“Fuck.” he muttered and tried to leave the scene before he punched Ian again and the sick feeling in his stomach escalated more.

“You love me. And you’re gay. Just admit it, just this once. Fucking admit it.” Ian stuttered out.

The heat in his stomach intensified and he wasn’t sure if he was going to throw up or lash out again as his words sunk into his brain. He punched him again and as he did it, he felt the tears spring to his eyes.

He wiped them away before they could fall, not wanting Ian to see how hard this was for him.

It was easy to blame Gallagher for what was happening because if they’d never started this thing between them, then Terry would’ve never found out...he’d never have to marry the whore...he could still be closested.

They could still be together. 

It was simple to beat Gallagher up, to make him bleed in a way that Mickey knew would hurt deeper than the visible bruises and cuts on his face.

“You feel better now, you feel like a man?” Ian gasped out.

Mickey lashed out once more, planting a well aimed kick to those lips that he loved to kiss - wanting Ian to understand that this was  _ it _ , it had to be.

“Feel better now.” Mickey said bending down to pick up the forgotten booze and downing it as Gallagher bled in front of him.

He just wished that, that could be the end, but that night, while he tried to sleep after drinking another bottle of whiskey when he got home, he dreamt of Ian.

And he’d continue to dream of him day after day.

It wasn’t easy to get rid of him, to erase him from his mind.

He was under his skin, but he’d never admit that to anyone.

* * *

Over the years, Mickey had a lot of fucked up shit happen to him. Mostly, because of who is father was and the things he chose to do, like placing him and his siblings in the system so he could work for a cartel or having a Russian whore fuck him to wash the fag away, like a dirty washcloth that needed to be cleaned. 

For years, he figured he’d grow up and be just like Terry.

Or some version of him.

He thought his life would be filled of drugs, guns, too much alcohol, and endless nights of sex with random people.

He knew from a young age he was fucked for life. 

Even more so when at the ripe age of 12, he realized he wasn’t like his brothers or the other boys he occasionally hung out with. He figured out slowly that he didn’t enjoy looking at stolen porn magazines or staring at girl’s asses who were passing him at school, on the street, wherever.

Instead, he found his eyes drifting more toward the male persuasion.

That realization didn’t mean he wasn’t going to turn out like Terry, though.

It just meant that he’d have to hide a portion of himself from anyone on the Southside,  _ especially _ Terry because he liked being alive. 

But when he and Ian started their thing, he realized that maybe -  _ maybe _ he could have something more than stolen moments in the back of stores, too much alcohol, and drug and gun runs. 

_ Maybe _ he could have something  _ more _ with Ian.

Maybe he could  _ be _ something more  _ for _ Ian.

He listened to Ian rattle on and on about the army and doing well in school to achieve his dreams and Mickey wanted that. He wanted that so much his stomach physically hurt when he allowed himself - just for a moment - to dream of a world where he and Ian were free from all the bullshit that seemed to keep them -  _ him _ caged up. 

He imagined a small one bedroom apartment, far away from the Southside where they went to boring ass jobs all day and came back home to talk about those boring as fuck jobs. 

Sometimes he imagined they cooked dinner together or cuddled on the couch while watching a movie - an action movie, obviously.

But then  _ that _ day happened and as he looked over the Russian whore’s shoulder to see Ian gazing at him with such a sad, hopeless look, he realized that, that pipe dream would only ever be something his masochistic brain cooked up.

It would never be reality. 

Could never be reality.

Every time he looked at Ian, in the weeks that followed, he was reminded of that forlorn, desperate look on his face. He saw their future slip through the cracks of his fingers like water cupped in his hands. He was reminded of the fact they really could’ve had something real, if not for poor timing and homophobic fathers.

Every time he saw Ian - and he didn’t for awhile after he reluctantly beat him up in the abandoned building - he realized he’d never be free, from Terry, from the Southside, from anyone.

And sometimes, he really hated Ian for even giving him that small glimmer of hope that they could’ve had something away from the Southside and Terry and all the other bullshit their lives were caked with.

His life was already written in stone and all it contained were long prison sentences and too much violence.

* * *

Ian left on a Friday. 

And every Friday after that Mickey counted another week the redhead had been gone. 

Another week that he spent wondering where his Firecrotch had wandered off to.

Married life was okay.

Svetlana was okay.

But  _ he _ wasn’t okay.

If his nights weren’t filled with images of his father ordering Svetlana to fuck him, then they were filled with agonizing thoughts of Ian and where he was.

No one had seen him since he announced he was joining the army. 

That was weeks ago.

Sometimes Mickey would dream that he’d finally hear from Gallagher, but usually it was because some army officer came to the house to tell him that Ian was dead.

And then he would wake up in a cold sweat on the edge of the bed away from the pregnant prostitute that may or may not be carrying his baby.

Mickey frequently questioned if anyone even really cared about Ian. None of his siblings seemed to have the slightest idea where he was and to Mickey, didn’t seem to be bothered by the fact that Ian just fucking disappeared.

He had asked the giant bartender at the Alibi a few times about Gallagher, but he didn’t seem to have any clue where the redhead was, just like everyone else.

As the days passed, Mickey grew more and more certain that none of them gave a fuck.

Except him...because, well because he realized as each day passed separating him and Ian that...maybe it wasn’t going to be as easy as he thought it would be to forget about the younger boy.

He knew that Ian needed space.

He knew Ian was hurting.

But he was hurting too. 

He figured Ian would know that.

He was there on  _ that _ day, afterall.

He figured that eventually Ian would come back to him with a few mumbled apologizes and a small smile on his lips that solidified Mickey’s knowledge that maybe Ian was  _ it _ . 

That he wasn’t just some fuck in an abandoned building or the freezer in a mini-mart, that maybe this was real.

But then Mickey wouldn’t know what to do with that information and he would push it away.

The thing was, Mickey would’ve been fine with the fact he was hurting. He was a Milkovich, he hurt a lot - physically mostly - but occasionally, mentally and emotionally too.

Mickey could handle the hurt; it was the  _ ache _ of longing for the redhead that really drove him over the edge. 

Missing Ian festered, like an unattended wound.

It was eating away at him, and he realized somewhere along the way that it wasn’t just a missing ache that was creating a hole in his stomach.

It was something more.

It started small, and continued to get worse over time, like an infection, until he was locked in the dirty Alibi bathroom with some redheaded woman trying to get off and failing miserably.

That was when he realized that maybe Gallagher couldn’t really be replaced.

He  _ missed _ Ian.

Missed him like he’d never missed anyone before.

And that longing, that deep painful gnawing seemed to sit in his chest every day, every night.

It moved south to his belly where it sat in a hole, waiting until - until, well, Mickey wasn’t sure what, but he knew that the hole would fill and he’d be...he’d probably feel even more lost than he had these last few weeks.

He’d tried to forget him.

He tried to ‘be straight.’

He’d tried pretending they didn’t have anything, but that only seemed to drive him away. 

It took weeks, but eventually, Mickey realized that nothing seemed to work.

He felt sicker and sicker as the distance grew between that Friday he last saw Gallagher and the present time.

It was like life wasn’t right anymore; like what he was doing - what he did - wasn’t right.

He felt nauseated with the redheaded woman.

He felt like he was drowning all the time it seemed.

He’d tried to fuck other women; he’d tried booze; he’d tried weed, crack, molly, and even some H Iggy had scored, but those bright green eyes and red hair floated in front of his eyelids and played with his mind to the point where Mickey couldn’t deny the fact that maybe he had some  _ serious _ feelings for Gallagher…

More than caring or liking or just feeling really good cause Ian gave it to him good.

Nothing felt right without Ian, he knew that.

It hurt to be with someone else.

And that ache wasn’t getting any better, it was actually getting worse.

He longed to just see him smile once more or to feel his long fingers deep inside him, trying to get him off. He wished that he had savored their last encounter in the basement of the community center before he and Svet got married. But he hadn’t thought Gallagher would just take off like that...he figured they’d have more time. 

He wanted to feel his body wrapped around him once more, like he had the one and only morning they woke up together. He wished that he had, had the courage to tell him ‘don’t do this’ instead, of standing there and being a coward to allow him to walk away.

All he wanted was Ian.

He wanted that ache to stop.

If he had the opportunity to see him once more - even for a second - maybe he’d finally be able to admit something he’d held onto at night, something that kept him warm even when he woke up thinking that his redhead was gone forever. 

That little voice that seemed to be growing louder and louder with each passing day - that had started well before Ian had disappeared into the depths of some no-name place Mickey could only imagine.

Maybe he’d finally be able to tell him that - that - that he  _ loved _ him. 


	7. Dreams

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ian dreams of Mickey. Mickey finds Ian. Mid Season 4.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First off, thank you everyone for reading, kudoing, and commenting! Your feedback is so helpful and I really appreciate it. I was planning something else for this chapter, but one comment gave me inspiration and I changed course. As of right now, I'm keeping the story to 14 chapters, but it might become a bit longer (perhaps 20??). I was prepared for this to be halfway through, but we shall see where the story takes us. I do feel like I got a little off track from the original summary, so I hope to get back on.
> 
> Second, I'm in the US and currently, my company is having us all work from home. I'm not sure if this will hinder or help the creative process, but regardless no matter where you are, I hope you guys are staying healthy and safe! I'll try to keep to my weekly Friday updates, but since I'm stuck in my house all day, I'm not sure how I'm going to feel, especially because it's for three weeks...so we'll see what happens. Also, I can't go to my usual writing spots, so either I'll finish this story quicker than I was planning or writing a chapter will be super difficult. 
> 
> Any who! I hope you guys like the next chapter! Drop a comment and let me know or if you'd like a specific scene OR you have any tips for writing Bipolar Ian (which is way difficult) please let me know. Thanks again for reading and enjoy!

Ian could feel Mickey somewhere in the building and allowed his feet to take him to where he thought the brunette would be. He found himself in the abandoned kitchen in the basement where Mickey was pacing the length of the room in the community center he was marrying that fucking commie skank in. 

His only thought was making Mickey stop. He knew that this wasn’t what he wanted. Even if he’d never admit it, Ian  _ knew _ that he couldn’t fake how he felt for him.

At least, he didn’t think so.

A part of him knew that Mickey cared, but another part, a much bigger part couldn’t help but wonder if maybe -  _ maybe _ the brunette never felt anything for him at all.

Maybe he was just another lay to Mickey, but - but that wasn’t right, was it?

Mickey cared,  _ right _ ?

He showed he cared before - like - like when...well, Ian couldn’t think of a moment specifically, but he knew he cared somehow - someway. 

In his own, Mickey way, he cared. 

There were times when Ian could see through that rough exterior to the mushy Mickey inside he loved - he’d see it in a flash of softness in his eyes or a hidden smile when Ian said something particularly caustic. 

At least, he thought he did...was he wrong?

Ian knew in his heart that Mickey didn’t want to go through with this, but he wasn’t sure why he was.

He knew that he couldn’t fake what they had. 

It just couldn’t be true.

This couldn’t be happening.

And why was Mickey marrying this whore when he could choose Ian?

They stared at each other as Ian struggled to say something to make Mickey stay with him and not go into the arms of that skank. But he wasn’t sure what to say just yet or maybe he just had too much to say that he couldn’t find the one thing that would make him see that marrying the Russian wasn’t what he wanted.

Ian took a step toward Mickey, but he immediately backed up, like he had in the courtyard of the abandoned building, which was the last time they’d been alone together.

“Get the fuck away.”

“Don’t - don’t do this.” Ian said advancing toward him again, but Mickey backed up to get as far away from him as possible and he felt his heart sink.

He needed to show him that it wasn’t worth marrying that Russian - that he’d protect him from his father and they could live...they could finally be  _ free _ .

“Don’t marry her.” Ian pleaded, feeling tears prickle his eyes, but he blinked them away.

“Why not?” Mickey said, placing his half smoked cigarette back in his mouth.

“Because - because...” Ian choked out unable to say what he really wanted to, to make sure Mickey didn’t go through with it.

That this didn’t have to be the end of them.

“It’s just a fucking piece of paper, Firecrotch. It doesn’t mean anything. It’s not like you haven’t been a mistress before.” Mickey insisted.

Ian felt his stomach drop to his toes at his words and he frowned, “this isn’t how it’s supposed to go.”

“Well, this is the way it’s going now.” Mickey said blowing out smoke.

Ian paused as he stared at the shorter man holding a cigarette and wearing a suit that was too big for him.

“What do I have to do to make you stay?”

Mickey smirked and looked down at his cigarette, “shouldn’t I be asking that of you?”

“I left because - because--”

“Because you love me? You can say it, maybe it’ll make me choose you this time.” Mickey flicked his cigarette in the corner and turned to stare at him.

Ian felt the tears begin to form in his eyes and he tried swallowing to make them disappear, but his saliva got stuck in his throat and he felt like he was drowning.

“I-I-I…” he stuttered.

Mickey sighed and looked at him with a sad expression, “You could’ve saved me, Gallagher, but you left.”

“Mick, I-I...” he whispered and struggled to clear his throat, but he felt like he couldn’t breathe.

“It’s fine, Ian, I get it. You don’t deserve me anyway. Just go fuck someone else. Forget about me.” Mickey said and his eyes bore into Ian’s, just like on  _ that _ day when he stared at him over the shoulder of the Russian - the Russian he married.

Staring into those bright blue eyes, Ian saw the swimming, conflicted emotions all too clearly. He needed to show him that he loved him, that they could be together without anything or anyone getting in the way.

That they were meant to be.

“It’s just a fucking piece of paper, Ian. We can still bang.” Mickey said, suddenly looking up and smoking a new cigarette.

Ian felt a churning in his stomach as the tears began to fall and the smoke stung his eyes.

“It’s just a fucking piece of paper. We can still bang. If she’s out banging other dudes, why can’t I?” Mickey said, taking a step closer. “You know, you’re just a warm mouth to me.” he added smirking and taking a step toward him.

“I-I-I…” Ian gasped and Mickey smirked at him suddenly. 

“Just fuck off, man, go back to fucking running away. I’m fine with Svetlana. It’s not like I want you anyway.” 

Ian jerked awake with a start and he found himself in a dark corner of a cold room wrapped in his ROTC sleeping bag. He was sitting upright taking in deep gasping breaths as he made sense of what was going on around him.

A half naked guy was beside him, his arms stretched above him and a thin blanket wrapped around his waist. Ian could spot a patterned tattoo on his side. He stared at him trying to make sense of who the guy was, but he couldn’t place him. He looked around and felt his stomach drop as he remembered his dream.

It was a frequent one - he often dreamt of how he wished that moment in the basement had gone and each time he seemed to get it wrong.

To him, no matter how many times he tried, he couldn’t seem to make it right with Mickey. 

This dream was no different, but eventually, Ian knew he’d get it - he had to.

He needed to.

For Mickey, to help him be free.

Since he had found out, Ian had spent weeks trying to figure out how to change Mickey’s mind. He’d figured that all he had to do was kiss him and Mickey would see -  _ finally _ see that they could be together. 

But then that didn’t work. 

Well, they’d fucked, but all it really did was open Mickey up to him again, make him his, prove that they belonged together. 

And sex was easy for them, it showed both of them how much they wanted the other one, it demonstrated that it wasn’t all in Ian’s head.

Ian had figured that it would all work out the way it was supposed to once Mickey let him kiss him to remind him of what they shared.

Instead, Mickey married that whore and now...now he was waking up in strange places with little to no memory of how he got there. 

He wasn’t enough for Mickey to make him change his mind.

He didn’t choose him.

Ian laid back down and stared up at the ceiling feeling sick to his stomach. His mind focusing, yet again, on the fact that Mickey didn’t choose him. He never chose him, not in reality and not in his dreams. 

He rubbed at his flat abdomen and rolled onto his side away from the guy. 

Closing his eyes, he felt very tired all of a sudden.

He needed to sleep.

Tomorrow, he’d deal with everything.

Right now, he just wanted to rest, he needed to close his eyes. 

He slept for days and when he woke up again, he wanted to forget.

And a few days after that, he found himself working at The White Swallow.

But Mickey lingered in his mind, taunting him with the three words Ian struggled to tell him every night.

* * *

He couldn’t believe that he was actually going through with it. 

Ian took a burning sip from the whiskey bottle and focused on the blonde guy sucking him off.

He blinked and everything seemed to start moving too fast.

He couldn’t believe that Mickey would do this to him - to  _ them _ .

He snorted a link of coke wanting everything to go a bit faster, so he could feel back to his old self again.

To Ian, Mickey was basically throwing away the last three years of their kinda sorta relationship.

He smoked some weed to try to sleep, but he took his phone out instead and texted the guy with the tattoo of a bird on his back.

He hadn’t slept in what felt like days. 

Did Mickey ever even care? Was he just another easy fuck to him?

Ian took the offered pill and leaned back as the course hands of the Latino man palmed his crotch.

He zoned out as he struggled to feel part of the moment. 

Why hadn’t he chosen him?

Ian ate the white, crystalized powder and started to grind against the curly haired 25 year old and wondered if he would ever forget Mickey Milkovich.

He knew Mickey hated the fact he was gay, he didn’t think he’d resort to a lifetime of living as a straight man and deny himsel freedom. 

Ian took the offered beer and stared out the window of the apartment wondering if anything would ever make him feel better as he continued taking and running and dreaming.

* * *

“Times up, love birds, get the fuck up.” 

Ian looked up through hazy eyes to see a figure he hadn’t laid eyes on in weeks. As his eyes registered who was staring down at him in the darkness of the club, he wondered if his dreams of Mickey were manifesting themselves into hallucinations - or maybe  _ this _ was a dream. 

Did he really miss the Southside thug that much?

He didn’t need to answer that to know it was a most definite yes. 

Feeling the first vestiges of warmth in what felt like years when his eyes rested on Mickey, Ian tentatively moved off the old man he’d been giving a lapdance feeling dazed. 

He stopped himself from pinching his arm, instead focusing on the drugs he’d taken that were starting to hit him, he figured the Mickey in front of him would disappear momentarily and he’d be left staring at another customer eager for a hump. 

But as much as he wanted to look away knowing he was probably imagining the situation, he couldn’t help but stare at the man who had been haunting his dreams, who the last time he’d seen had tried to initiate intimacy in what Ian would consider too little too late in the house where  _ that _ day had taken place.

Forcing himself to look away, Ian began to pace, not really listening to what Mickey was saying to him. He made out occasional words such as ‘family’ ‘tweakin’ and ‘Curtis.’ But besides that, he couldn’t seem to focus on what Mickey was saying, only that he was here, in front of him, so tempting to touch - to kiss.

He wasn’t sure how to play this, should he kiss him, like he so desperately wanted or punch him, like a bigger part of him desired to do?

Who did Mickey Milkovich think he was anyway, showing up out of the blue and telling him what to do?

Where was his whore of a wife anyway?

Wasn’t he supposed to be with her?

Ian didn’t fucking want him here, he was just going to - going to - why was he even here anyway? Why did he even care when he hadn’t even chosen him?

He’d chosen that whore - a whore that had...that had  _ raped _ him.

He looked away from Mickey as he got in his face and continued asking him questions, it hurt to look at him, the reminder of him not choosing  _ them _ still too fresh in his mind.

He wanted to push Mickey away the same way he had continued to push him away for years, but another part of him wanting to pull him closer - to smell his scent, to feel his body, to taste those pink, soft lips that he’d only gotten to kiss on far too few occasions. 

“25 gets you a lapdance.” he heard himself say. He wasn’t sure where that came from, but it was out in the open now and Mickey was responding to him by taking out money. 

Mickey muttered, “never had to pay for that shit before.” 

And Ian watched as he actually shoved money into the short-shorts they ‘suggested’ that the dancers where.

As he climbed into Mickey’s lap and began to rub against him, he felt his body tingle with warmth and not in that hot, spicy way it did when he was on too many drugs.

Instead, it was that warmth he experienced when he climbed into bed at the end of a long day and he wrapped himself up in soft, cozy blankets.

Or the kind you get when you’re greeted by an old lover.

Ian wanted to sink into that warmth, but when he looked into Mickey’s eyes and saw the discomfort, he was reminded of the fact that nothing had really changed between them.

Mickey was still afraid.

He still had a wife.

And his wife was still pregnant.

More importantly, he wasn’t Ian’s anymore and if he wanted to ensure his heart stayed protected, he needed to stay as far away from him as possible.

But that didn’t mean rubbing against Mickey wasn’t doing anything for him. He slid up and down his taut body and Ian could feel his own body responding, the way it always did to the brunette. He tried to focus on the area between Mickey’s eyebrows, but he couldn’t help his eyes drift downward to his pouty, pink lips - the ones he wanted to taste again so badly.

They hadn’t kissed since the wedding and Ian just wanted to know if he tasted the same; if Mickey’s tongue would tentatively graze his lips as if to ask for permission to move forward. He wished that Mickey knew that he never needed to ask - Ian was always willing to give. He moved his face a smidge closer and he wondered what Mickey would do if he kissed him in this very gay club. 

Would he fight? 

Would he give in?

Did he even want Ian anymore?

Ian had to remind himself that they were done just as the end notes of the song came across the sound speaker. 

“That was fun.” he said dully as the effects of the drugs took over and the coldness of reality seeped into his heart as he parted from Mickey’s lap.

As he distanced himself, he vaguely wondered if Mickey was hurting the way Ian was since that day in the courtyard at the abandoned building where they used to fuck.

While the cuts and bruises had healed, he doubted his heart ever would.

He quickly turned away from Mickey to move on to someone else, he knew if he didn’t, then he’d give in to that warmth he missed - and he didn’t think he could take the rejection from the shorter boy again.

* * *

Ian wandered down the steps into the basement of the community center Mickey was marrying that commie skank in. He felt the fiery anger in his veins as he searched through the building to locate him. He found the shorter boy pacing in the kitchen basement smoking a cigarette and wearing a suit that was much too large for him.

Ian wished that he didn’t feel suddenly so attracted to him in that suit.

He wished that he was wearing that suit for their wed--but he pushed that thought away before it could take shape.

“Mickey, don’t do this.” Ian exclaimed allowing the first thing in his mind to come out of his mouth. “Please, for me.” He cringed inwardly at how desperate he sounded when moments ago he felt such anger at the boy in front of him.

Mickey seemed to deflate in front of him and he took a hit of his cigarette before he answered. “What do you want from me, Gallagher? You want me to ask you to stay? Is that it?” 

Ian took a step closer until he was in front of him, “I just...I want you to…” he trailed off and tried to formulate his thoughts.

“It’s not like I have a choice, we can’t all just spit out whatever the fuck we feel whenever the fuck we want.” 

Ian frowned and reached for him, “I’m just asking you to give us a chance, a real chance.”

Mckey turned away from him, so Ian couldn’t see his expression.

“Mickey, please, don’t--”

“I don’t have a choice, Gallagher. What about that don’t you get?” Mickey looked up with a hardness in his eyes that told Ian he was bracing himself for what came next.

“I’d choose you. I love--”

“Don’t make this harder than it has to be.” Mickey paused and with tenderness that he’d never shown Ian before, except for once at their sleepover before  _ that _ day, he leaned forward and pressed his forehead against his. “Soon.” he whispered so quietly Ian almost missed it. 

He tried to reach his hands toward Mickey, but they seemed too heavy and the more he tried to lift them, the harder it seemed. 

Suddenly, Mickey’s expression changed and his tone became more aggressive as he said, ‘Jesus Christ, Gallagher.’

And then he woke up.

* * *

Ian’s green eyes blinked as his surroundings came rushing back to him. He looked around the room and instead of awaiting the unfamiliarity that washed over him, he realized he was in a room he’d been in before, even in the dimness of the lighting, he’d recognize this place anywhere.

He laid back down feeling groggy and still like he was dreaming. He looked over to the body turned away from him and he knew without needing to check that it was Mickey.

“Mick.” he whispered moving a hand to shake him, but thought better of it before he made contact.

“You awake?” he added instead of reaching to wake him up.

Mickey didn’t respond, so Ian gently touched his shoulder needing to know if he was real. His mind cast back to what had happened earlier and he remembered Mickey coming to the club, not sure if he was real, and being led out of the club by some old man...he was still a little out of it and so tired, he wasn’t even sure what was real and what was a dream.

Did Mickey find him at the club?

Did they have an actual conversation about Mickey marrying the prostitute?

Did he almost tell him he loved him?

Ian didn’t know and as he gazed at the man beside him, he struggled to keep his eyes awake, feeling for the first time in longer than he could remember that he was safe to fall back to sleep where he was.

After attempting to find out if Mickey was awake, Ian figured he was in the clear and he could do something that he dared not to do while he was awake. He reached forward ever so softly and kissed the spot where his neck and shoulder met. He pressed his lips against the softness of Mickey’s skin and he closed his eyes wanting to savor this moment before he woke up and told him to get out - that he was married - that he didn’t want him, like he had so many times before.

Reluctantly, he pulled away and laid his head back down on the pillow and closed his eyes, melting into the gentleness of the mattress and wrapped himself tighter in the blanket that smelled of Mickey. He rubbed his nose into the pillow and then ever so tentatively he reached a hand forward and laid it on Mickey’s side, he was tempted to pull him closer so Ian was the big spoon and the other boy the smaller one, but he didn’t want to push his luck.

Simply touching the boy was enough to lull Ian back to sleep to wake up to a bright room with a pissed off pregnant Russian with a claw hammer telling him to leave. But at the moment, Ian didn’t care what the morning would bring or even about the dream he had of Mickey since he had the real thing in front of him.

Because Mickey had found him and that was as close to an ‘I love you, too’ as Ian would get.


	8. Freedom

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mickey and Ian reconnect and Mickey allows himself to be free. Set season 4.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! As always, you guys are amazing. Thank you for reading, commenting, and kudoing! You're what's helping me keep going in the overall scheme of things in this crazy weird world we're in. And this story and the fandom, which has been great. Anyway, a few things. 
> 
> This is a super steamy chapter, but I'm still not sure if I'm doing justice to gay sex in general. It's fun to write, but I worry that it's not realistic enough? Second, I guess quarantined and working from home all day helps the process. Who would've thought. I would've had this up earlier, but I couldn't decide where to end it, which is why it's longer than normal. I was going to end it after the sex, but I wanted to get in the club kiss too. Lastly, there's a Part Two sort of one shot coming because a few of you really wanted to see the scene before the wedding in real time, so I'll be including that soon. I didn't want to go back since I am trying to keep this on the shorter side and I wasn't sure how to do it organically, but I came up with a pretty cool idea, so stay tuned for that. I'm going to start writing it tomorrow (because what else do I have going on except baking and yoga) and see what happens. I expect it before my usual Friday update.
> 
> That's it! I hope you guys enjoy! Please stay healthy and care for one another. It's only been a week and it feels like the world has shifted so much already. Leave a comment please if you feel so inclined!

“Ian here?” Mickey asked as he walked through the backdoor of the Gallagher house. The oldest sister, Fiona, gave him a wide eyed look and nodded toward the stairs.

“Upstairs.” she said and he immediately went over and began to make his way to Ian’s room.

He heard the hoard of siblings ask about him, but Mickey had one thing on his mind.

Ian Gallagher.

As he walked over from the Alibi, he wondered about his options for Firecrotch.

After being without him, he was a bit more open to having a secret relationship with Ian, especially now that his dad wasn’t breathing down his neck; he was in lockup again for drugs or guns of whatever - Mickey wouldn’t remember why. He wasn’t sure what changed except - well, that wasn’t true. 

He knew what changed. 

It was his lack of intimacy with the redhead. 

He really shouldn’t have been so surprised about how a life without Ian would be… Well, it drove him to decide that fuck it, he would rather have a relationship with him and deal with the consequences than be without him; it wasn’t like there was any love lost between him and Svetlana.

He was worth it after all.

He’d made the wrong decision and he didn’t want to live with that forever if he had the chance of getting Ian back.

Besides, he realized - probably much too late - that Ian made him feel...more than anyone else ever had (or probably would).

For some reason, he felt 100 percent sure about that last part.

He couldn’t exactly just let that go, could he?

Especially when he spent the better part of last night carrying him home like a sack of potatoes. 

The thing was before when they stopped, Mickey knew it wasn’t going to be a forever thing. Perhaps at the time, he had planned on it, but they had stopped before - fuckin juvie - and Ian always welcomed him back.

And besides on a much more carnal level, no one could make Mickey come the way Ian could, but if he was being honest with himself - and he rarely was these days, it was hard to tell the truth when there were so many lies - he’d admit that he missed the guy.

Probably loved him, in his own fucked up way - he went back and forth on that realization, depending on the day.

But Mickey didn’t want to focus on that last part.

So the idea of being without him wasn’t ideal in his book.

In short, he gave in, after his wedding night and a few weeks of attempting to live as a straight man, he propositioned Gallagher, which was met with a solid ‘no.’

After, he spent the last few weeks regretting pushing him away because a life without a bright, vivacious, and strong-willed Ian wasn’t a life he really wanted to be a part of.

So when the older Gallagher brother came knocking, Mickey needed to know that Ian was alright, even if he didn’t want to see him.

And when he found him at the club, grinding on saggy old man balls...he felt a combination of relief - he was okay! - and melancholy that struck him right in the middle of the chest - he probably wasn’t really okay. 

Now that he was making his way through the house to confront him - again - when he was hopefully sober and in his right mind, Mickey felt his stomach twist in knots as he wondered what was going to happen.

Was Ian really done with him?

Was that moment before the ceremony the last he’d ever be with him?

Mickey hoped that wasn’t the case.

He hoped the time apart had shown Ian how much he missed him, but Mickey figured he was being too optimistic. 

After all, he was the one who kept pushing Ian away.

He was the one who wanted everything on his terms.

He was the one who was unwilling to give in.

And what little he did end up giving, he had to wonder if it was too little too late. If Ian had finally had enough of pushing at that boundary line and not getting anything back. 

Perhaps, his penchant for saggy old man balls was more than Mickey was giving him credit for. 

Maybe Ian was hoping to actually find love - and money - with one of them.

He hesitated in the hallway outside of Ian’s room and with a deep breath, he pushed forward and entered the room. He found him sitting calmly on his bed with a layer of crinkled paper decorating the bedspread.

The redhead looked up as he entered and then back down at his scribblings not too concerned about seeing him. At the sight of an Ian that seemed to be in his right mind, Mickey’s stomach shifted and he suddenly felt nervous about what would happen next.

Would he tell him to get out?

Would he pretend he was just another guy?

Would he even be pretending?

“See you left.” Mickey said, trying to portray a calm exterior, “took all your shit.”

“Your bride threatened me with a claw hammer.” Ian retorted barely looking up from the sheet of paper he was scribbling on.

Mickey wished that he’d set that down, so they could have a proper conversation, but he also knew the idea of having a proper conversation made his stomach twist in knots once again.

Before Mickey could respond, he was pushed to the side as the older Gallagher brother, the sister and the other brother burst in, excitement written all over their faces.

He listened as the little brother asked questions and Mickey felt his heart rate speed up as he listened to Ian’s answers about what he did while he was in basic. 

And then the kid asked why he’d gone in the first place.

“Relationship issues.” Ian said shortly and Mickey felt like he stopped breathing.

Sure, he knew they were in a relationship - he had a relationship with the giant at The Alibi because he was the landlord over the Rub And Tug - but for some reason, the word sounded more intimate on Ian’s lips. 

He looked down guilty, especially as Lip sent him an irritated look that clearly blamed him for his brother’s disappearing act. Mickey vaguely wondered how much Lip knew, especially as he seemed to elude to knowing more when he was asking after Ian.

Lip stopped glaring long enough to place a hand on both of the younger siblings’ shoulders and steered them away. He closed the door after them and Mickey turned to Ian to pick back up their conversation, but found him scribbling away in his notebook again.

Mickey swallowed and prepared himself for the next question that had been burning inside of him since he found out he left from the Russian.

“Are you gonna come back?” he asked quietly.

Ian glanced up and tilted his head slightly to take in what Mickey was really asking him. He narrowed his eyes at him and Mickey could almost see the cogs moving in his head. What he was really asking - and Mickey hoped he got it - was, if he was interested in starting back up again as a them?

“That depends…” Ian suddenly smirked at him and when Mickey’s stomach twisted in knots, they were ones of warmth - he hadn’t realized how much he missed that mischievous look in Ian’s eyes until then. “Will you suck my dick whenever I want?”

Mickey cringed and tried to stop himself from looking at the door in worry, in case someone overheard Ian’s request. He didn’t need the entire Gallagher clan thinking he was a fag.

“Fuck off.” he said immediately.

Ian shrugged and went back to his notebook.

“Whatchu writing?” he asked, trying to catch a glimpse, but all he saw were scribblings and couldn’t make sense of them.

“Stuff, ideas, I have.” he said, sparing Mickey a glimpse before ducking down and writing some more. 

Mickey swallowed and looked down at his feet as his mind went back to Ian’s question. He would do it, suck his dick, whenever he wanted as long as Ian was with him. He didn’t really care what he had to do to make sure Ian was in his life again. 

He finally felt okay admitting that he missed him, that Ian made him feel warm inside. Just not outloud, at least not yet.

Because for the first time in his life, he finally had someone who understood him.

Besides, Ian made him feel secure in who he was.

How could he beat that?

“Fine. I’ll do it.” he said quietly.

Ian looked up immediately and that snarky grin came back to his lips.

“Do what?”

“Come the fuck on, man, don’t make me say it.”

“Say it.” Ian waited patiently as Mickey struggled to articulate the words.

“I’ll suck your dick.” he said finally.

Ian’s smile was so wide, it brightened his eyes. “Whenever I want? What about right now?”

Mickey hesitated and took a step closer to the redhead. He got down on his knees and reached his hands forward to start undoing his belt. Mickey hoped that no one came into the room, but as that thought passed through his mind, Ian’s hard cock was finally revealed and everything else seemed to go blank as he realized that he had the opportunity to be with Ian once again.

It felt like years since the last time Mickey laid his eyes on Ian’s perfect length. It was as big and thick as he remembered and he bit his lip to hold in the shudder that threatened to show how much he missed him - missed this.

“This turning you on?” Ian asked in a husky voice.

Mickey had been so focused on Ian’s dick, when he looked up at the redhead, he was surprised to find him completely enraptured with what he was doing. Gallagher’s pupils were blown wide, his tongue was wetting his lips over and over as if his mouth was dry, and if those weren’t telltale signs that he was turned on, his rapidly hardened cock was telling Mickey everything he needed to know.

Suddenly, Mickey felt sure of himself, he felt in control of the situation. He knew that the nervousness and the hesitation he was feeling wasn’t just his to bear alone, Ian was feeling it too. He might put on a tough front, just like Mickey, but he could tell that Gallagher was itching to feel him just as he was.

And now Mickey had him in the palm of his hand - figuratively and literally - and he hadn’t even really started to touch him yet.

Smirking suddenly, Mickey moved toward his cock until he was just a breath away and then he stuck his tongue out and tentatively licked the head that was rapidly turning as red as the blood rushed to it. 

His smirk widened when Ian let out a full body shudder.

“Not yet, but it seems to be turning you on.” Mickey said slyly.

Ian’s eyes widened and then he matched Mickey’s smirk, although, his was softer and he could see the walls crumble around him as he reached out his hand and began to gently move it up the other boy’s length. Mickey started to feel like no time had passed since the last time they had been together and his body began to grow warm at the thought. 

Ian leaned back against the wall and went to close his eyes, but Mickey’s grip tightened on his length, which prompted him to open them again.

“What--?” he asked his voice thickening with lust.

“I want you to watch me.” Mickey said, not even recognizing his own voice. He wasn’t sure where the request came from, but he needed Ian to do what he said, he needed Ian to watch him and he wanted to watch his facial expressions. 

Ian gave a little nod and made sure to focus his gaze on Mickey as he ducked his head down and placed his lips around his cock. He heard Ian’s sharp intake of breath and then he began to move up and down, his hand gripping the bottom of the shaft, so he could focus on bringing pleasure to the head. He twirled his tongue around the head and then flattened it against the underside of his cock, which made Ian let out a low moan and twist his fingers in Mickey’s hair. 

Mickey moved away with a soft pop and looked up to see Ian still focused on him. He made sure to maintain eye contact as he moved back to going down on him. His lips moved up and down, hollowing out his cheeks to bring him the most pleasure. 

He moved his right hand away from the base of his shaft and cupped his balls, massaging them a little harder than he normally would when Ian’s eyes started to drift closed. The redhead gave him a blissed out smile and gently ran his hands through Mickey’s hair, tightening his grip at the roots the way that he knows he likes.

Although, how he knows that he likes it is beyond Mickey since they rarely - if ever - verbalized what they wanted sexually from the other. They just kinda...knew...the way Mickey knew Ian liked his balls massaged during a blowjob and Ian knew that he liked his hair tugged during anything sexual - blow job or sex. 

Telling him to watch him was the first time he’d ever told Ian what he wanted from him and he wasn’t even sure where that had come from.

But he liked it.

It made him feel powerful.

But more importantly, it made him feel like their connection ran deep, deeper than it had in the past.

Mickey watched as Ian’s mouth turned from a smile into an ‘oh’ shape and his breathing became heavier. He tightened his hold on his balls and with his other hand began to massage his thigh. He quickened the pace of his mouth, moving up and down and hollowed his cheeks out the slightest bit more when he got to the top of his cock. He could feel Ian’s balls tightening in his hands and he knew he was going to come any moment, but before he could taste the rush of cum that was pure Ian, he tugged his hair extra hard to get him to stop. 

Popping off of his ginger, Mickey stared at him in confusion.

“What?” he asked, wiping a thumb across the bottom of his lip to swipe the precum away.

“I want to feel you.” he said, reaching for Mickey’s own belt and pulling him into his lap, so he was straddling him. 

“What?” Mickey asked still reeling from having to stop one of his favorite activities - although he’d never admit it.

“When I come, I want to feel you. It’s been...it’s been too long.” Ian said dipping a hand into his pants and smirking when he felt how hard Mickey already was for him. “I guess you’re pretty excited too, huh?”

Mickey tried to hold back a flush, but the way Ian was grinning at him and the hardness of both of their cocks near inches from each other didn’t do anything to abate the way he was feeling.

“Fuck off.” he muttered sheepishly.

Ian grinned and pushed Mickey’s pants down below his hips to reveal his pale, globe shaped ass. Mickey kicked his pants away and then shed his t-shirt and pulled Ian’s off, so they were both naked.

He tried not to think of the fact that this was their first together after his wedding, but it was near impossible to do when Ian’s hands wandered south and began to grope at his ass. He hadn’t felt this good since that day. 

Nothing could compare to this.

His knees tightened around Ian’s hips and he let a deep breath out to relax into his grasp. The more Ian’s hands massaged his skin and pushed his ass cheeks together and apart, Mickey could feel any lingering stress drift away. As if sensing his relaxation, Ian began to press a finger into Mickey’s entrance. He hissed slightly as his finger pushed to his first knuckle and began to loosen Mickey’s ass hole up.

“Did you miss this?” Ian asked so quietly Mickey almost missed it.

He opened his mouth to respond, but Ian pushed his entire finger into Mickey and they both groaned together - Mickey at the mix of pain and pleasure that rocked through him and he guessed Ian was enjoying himself.

Without realizing what he was doing, Mickey reached forward with his hands that had previously been resting on Ian’s shoulders and gripped the sides of Ian’s face to pull him to meet his lips.

Mickey pressed his tongue to the seam of Ian’s lips and he could almost feel the redhead turn into putty in his arms as he licked and sucked his plump lower lip. Ian opened his mouth and Mickey pulled him impossibly closer; it was like Ian became pliant in his hands. 

For a moment, Ian had stopped moving his fingers as they both got lost in the kiss, but Mickey grinded himself down, so their lengths pressed together momentarily before the cool air hit their sensitive skin.

Suddenly, Mickey felt his world shift as he landed on the mattress with a soft thud, his legs loosely wrapped around Ian’s waist.

“Do you...is this okay?” Ian asked, suddenly hesitant of their new position.

They’d fucked once face to face for reasons Mickey had never quite figured out. It had happened right before Frank had caught them literally with their pants down. They had fucked away from each for such a long time (before and after that) the one time they fucked face-to-face always confused Mickey. And then they just never talked about it - like so much that hung between them - since he went back to juvie for punching that cop. 

He was fucked for life anyway, another juvie sentence wouldn’t make a difference, but 

right now, he never wanted to be apart from Ian again. He couldn’t even remember why he had ever wanted to be away from him in the first place.

Face-to-face was the way he wanted to fuck from now on too he decided. He didn’t really mind watching the series of pleasurable emotions play across Ian’s face - Mickey had only really ever seen his come face when he was sucking him off and he secretly really liked to see Ian’s mouth drop into an ‘oh’, that telltale bottom lip bite, and then the soft, little moans - sometimes Mickey swore he was chanting ‘Mick’ over and over again, but it was so quiet he could never be sure.

“Yeah.” Mickey nodded and swallowed thickly as his eyes met Ian’s. His hands were loosely wrapped around Ian’s neck, to keep a hold on during the quick maneuver, and he loosened his grip even more as Gallagher moved away and leaned toward his bedside table to grab the tube of lube. 

Mickey watched as Ian wet his fingers and then placed them back at Mickey’s hole. They both watched as he slid his one finger in, then a second, and finally, the third. Mickey gazed transfixed into Ian’s eyes and Ian stared down where his fingers were rapidly widening his ass hole to prepare him.

“You going to get on me or what, Firecrotch?” Mickey asked getting pissy as the heat welled up in his stomach and Ian had yet to get inside him. He was practically quivering in anticipation as he thought about Ian filling him up.

Ian looked up with a slightly glazed expression, “you’re eager.”

Mickey rolled his eyes, “I don’t want one of your siblings finding us. Who knows who they’ll tell.” 

Mickey watched as Ian’s eyes darkened and he removed his fingers and aligned himself with the stretched out hole. Mickey flattened his feet on the mattress and Ian sat back on his knees as they prepared to be joined. He - in Mickey’s opinion, much too slowly - slid on a condom and looked straight into his eyes as if he were searching for something.

“Are you--” Ian began.

“Just do it.” Mickey snipped and Ian smiled softly before pushing into the older boy. He inched in slowly, filling Mickey until Ian’s hips pressed against him. He hissed as he stretched, but as Ian began to move, slowly and then picking up the pace, he grinded down on the other boy, wanting to create more friction. 

The sound of slapping skin filled the room and Ian’s hands found Mickey’s waist to keep him exactly where he wanted them.

Mickey surprised himself by wrapping his hand around one of Ian’s wrist and then resting his other over his hand. He looked up as his hands settled to where he felt they were supposed to go and he found Ian watching him intently.

Something on Mickey’s face must have shown whatever Ian needed to know because he picked up the pace so his hips were snapping against his. He shifted his angle suddenly, and Mickey tightened his hand on Ian’s wrist as he tried to bite back a moan. He felt his eyes drift closed, but one of Ian’s hands tightened on his waist, which made them snap back open.

“Stay with me.” Ian said quietly and then he moved his hand that was under Mickey’s hand toward his length and began to massage his hard, pulsing cock. Mickey felt like his body was on fire as he slowly climbed higher and higher toward his release. Ian’s cock was hitting that particularly tender spot inside of him and his hand massaging the sensitive part of his cock was sending him into overdrive.

“Wait, Mick, wait.” Ian breathed and held him in his hand as he stilled his motions so he could bend down and place a gentle kiss on his lips as he pressed himself deep into him. Mickey moaned into his mouth and Ian snapped his hips to hit his prostate once more. He continued doing that and Mickey unraveled quickly against him as they both came together in a moment of sweat slicked bodies and breathy moans.

He felt Ian bury his head in his neck and he heard him whisper something, but he couldn’t quite make out the words. 

Mickey could feel his erection deflating, trapped between Ian’s body and his own, but neither of them seemed to care as they locked lips again. Mickey playfully bite at Ian’s lip and he heard the other man chuckle and pull away slowly.

“That was…” Ian trailed off and Mickey saw him swallow.

He nodded and shyly looked over his shoulder waiting for Ian to pull out and start cleaning up, but he didn’t want the other boy to move away just yet, he didn’t want his safe heaviness to leave.

“Yeah.” Mickey rasped and looked into the redhead’s eyes when he pulled back from the spot in the crock of his neck.

Ian smiled sweetly and looked like he was about to lean down to kiss him again when they heard the sound of someone running on the stairs. At the noise, Mickey pushed Ian off and he hurried to get dressed. 

He could feel Ian’s eyes on him as he tried to find his clothes. When he looked over at Ian, just as the door opened, he was sliding a shirt slowly over his head.

The little brother came bursting in and looked between them in confusion.

“You’re still here.” he asked, wrinkling his nose and then looked around the room in confusion as if he sensed a change in the order of things.

“What’s that smell?” he asked looking at Ian accusingly.

“What smell?” Ian asked smiling at his younger brother. 

Mickey watched as Ian left the room and headed for the bathroom, to finish cleaning up and dump the condom presumably, which left the kid and Mickey in the same room.

“Don’t you have a wife or something?” He asked, looking at him in confusion.

Mickey glared, “what the fuck is it to you, kid?”

He shrugged and opened his mouth again, but Mickey ignored him and walked out of the room and down the hall. He wasn’t sure where he was going, so he settled on the back porch to smoke a cigarette. He ignored Fiona’s and Lip or whatever’s confused expressions when he passed by. He sat on the back steps and lit up a stick to wait for Ian. He didn’t have to wait long until he appeared. 

Sitting beside him, Ian swiped his cigarette with a grin.

“Hey!” Mickey exclaimed grumbling as if he really cared that he took his cigarettes.

His ginger grinned in response and blew a ring of smoke out. They were quiet as they passed the cigarette back and forth until Gallagher broke the silence.

“Do you want to talk about it?” he asked, glancing at him in hesitation.

Mickey frowned not exactly sure what he was talking about. It could be about Ian being a stripper, him leaving, Mickey getting married, that day, or Terry. Possibly, something he hadn’t even considered. There were a lot of things left unsaid between them, but right now, Mickey didn’t want to think about any of those things. He’d just gotten Ian back and he wanted to enjoy it before the next piece of shit hit the fan.

After all, it was only inevitable with them.

“No.” he said shortly.

They could have tomorrow to talk about it, hopefully they’d get the opportunity. And if they didn’t, Mickey was okay with it.

* * *

The next morning Mickey awoke for the second time ever crushed to Ian’s chest, his gangly arms holding him in place. He blanched as he realized what this might look like to the other two brothers who slept in the room, well really just the white one since he was actually aware of shit. 

He quietly uncurled Ian’s arm that was wrapped around his waist and resting on top of his hands so he could crawl onto the hastily made bed on the floor that he’d put together last night before Ian started to poke him to crawl into bed with him. 

He huddled under the blankets and glanced up at the redhead who was awake now and staring down at him with a slightly annoyed look on his face. He sighed and moved as if to reach out to Mickey, but stopped himself.

“You want something to eat?” Ian asked quietly.

Mickey glanced over at the sleeping lump that was Carl on the top bunk. “Yeah, sure.” he said, matching Ian’s quiet tone.

He smiled sleepily at him and allowed an arm to dangle over the edge of the bed so that his hand grazed against Mickey’s bare shoulder. He felt a shudder go through him and despite himself he moved away, he didn’t want the kid waking up and seeing something he shouldn’t.

“Carl sleeps like the dead.” Ian said, making Mickey look up at him.

Ian dragged his hand across his bare shoulder again and he glared at him suddenly feeling uncomfortable with his attempts at intimacy.

“Stop.” Mickey said gruffly.

“Mickey--”

“Don’t--”

“No one--”

“You don’t know that. My dad--” Mickey started, but Ian’s sad look made him stop. They both watched as he moved his arm back onto the bed to rest against his cheek, so that he was laying on his side and watching him.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean...I didn’t mean to push.” Ian said quietly. Mickey watched as his eyes darkened and he felt a pit form in his stomach. 

“Don’t worry about it.” he said sitting up suddenly and messing with the blankets just so he could avoid looking at Ian.

“Mick--”

Mickey glanced up and watched as Ian’s eyes softened. The despondent look alone told him he was thinking of that day. The pit tightened in his stomach and he knew what was going to come next.

“I don’t want to talk about it.” he said cutting Ian off before he said anything else about it.

“Mickey, you’re dad is a homophobic prick. No one deserves--”

“Let’s fucking drop it, okay?” Mickey said tightly.

Ian frowned and suddenly he was glaring at him, “it’s not fucking right.”

“I told you this once, Ian, and I’ll say it again. We don’t all get to go around fucking saying whatever the fuck we want to. We can’t all be so lucky. I don’t want to talk about this again, Firecrotch.” Mickey said getting up and stalking out of the room.

He felt Ian’s eyes on him as he left the room and headed to the bathroom. He stayed in there until he heard the sister start to whine about needing to pee. When he headed downstairs, he made sure to act as nonchalant and casual as possible, until Ian invited him to that fucking gay bar he was shaking his ass at.

He told himself he wouldn’t go, but the thought of Ian being touched by someone that wasn’t him wasn’t an option. Sure, he didn’t care if he was getting money, but the only person who got to touch Gallagher was him, so going tonight was really to make sure that Ian wasn’t being taken advantage of by some rich saggy balled fairy.

* * *

Which is why later that night Mickey found himself trying to drink himself numb so he didn’t care what Ian did. But the more he drank and the longer he watched Ian dry hump air for more dollar bills shoved in his stupid gold booty shorts, the angrier - yes angrier, not jealous - he became. He was tired of watching other people manhandle his ma--Ian - or Gallagher, whatever. 

No one had made a move to touch him other than throwing bills at him or staring a little too long at the large bulge in his shorts, but Mickey was waiting and watching for someone to step over the line.

He could almost feel it in the air that at any moment someone would try to take Ian away from him.

Some rich fucker, like the old man from when he was in juvie.

He was right; it occured as Mickey felt his blood boiling at having to watch all of these men gawk at his redhead.

The slim ball licked a $20 bill and reached forward to put it in Ian’s gold shorts, but Mickey didn’t care about the money. He wanted to stop that hand from reaching its final goal. 

He didn’t like this club.

He hated that everyone stared at Ian like he was a piece of meat.

He despised being unable to punch someone’s lights out for staring at him.

And he loathed the fact that they got to touch him when really he should be the only one to touch him.

But he wasn’t jealous.

He was just married to a whore and fucking a stripper.

This was his life.

He really couldn’t be jealous...or at least that’s what he told himself. Even if watching Ian shake his ass and touch old men was absolutely revolting to him - it was making him feel sick inside.

While he didn’t give a fuck what the Russian did, he did give a fuck what Ian did, which is probably why before he could stop himself, he was pulling the guy away from him, despite the fact he was just willingly throwing away money.

Money, he knew Ian probably needed, but he’d make sure to give to him himself. If Ian needed money, Mickey would find a way to make sure he got what he needed.

He could feel Ian’s eyes watching him, but he disregarded it as he threatened the slimy looking fucker away from ever touching Gallagher again.

“Do you want to fucking die tonight?” he asked, making the slim ball squirm away.

Out of the corner of his eye, Ian jumped down with a smirk off the platform he’d been on and stared at Mickey. He looked away from him, not liking that knowing look and the caked on makeup he was wearing for work. It made Mickey uncomfortable looking at this Ian - an Ian who was willing to prance around half naked doing God knew what. This wasn’t the hardworking, self-disciplined, go-getter he knew and lo--liked. 

Ever since Mickey had found him again, he felt like there was something different with him, like he was willing to walk to the edge and was just waiting for someone to say jump. Mickey couldn’t put his finger on it, but Ian just...he felt different. 

He wasn’t as...Mickey wasn’t sure, exactly because Ian had never been innocent, but he was missing that moral compass - more decent than Mickey was anyway - that ensured he wasn’t defiled. 

If he was honest, Mickey missed that Ian who looked at him like he was - like he was enough.

This Ian looked at him as if he wasn’t sure if he was actually here - like he was going to push him away or leave him any minute.

Which Mickey figured he couldn’t exactly fault him for. He’d left him in the past, even if it was for juvie and he had pushed him away because he wasn’t free to be who he was. He wasn’t sure if he ever would be.

“We were invited to an after party by one of my regulars.” Ian said proudly, as if that was something to show off.

In Mickey’s book, it made him wonder what all of these people wanted from him and what Ian had been doing for all of these men. What had he been willing to give up? Was that where his virtue - or whatever - had disappeared too? Or had Mickey done that?

He looked around the club, waiting to see someone else try to get on Ian as he talked to him about going to some party, but he really wasn’t paying attention until Gallagher said ‘what’s wrong with fun?’

And that’s when Mickey felt the words bubbling out of his mouth, even if they did sound jealous, which he most definitely wasn’t. “Nothing, unless it involves some fat faggot shoving his hands down--”

He stopped midsentence when Ian took a step forward and reached a hand up as if he was going to kiss him. He moved back so quickly from him, shocked by what Ian was trying to do. He knew what his line was and while he’d become okay with kissing - how could he not with the way Ian kissed - that didn’t mean he wanted every fucking fairy in the joint to know he was into men. Besides, a small, small part of him may be afraid of who would see him kissing a man. He’d learned from a young age that Terry tended to hear everything.

“The fuck!” he exclaimed staring at Ian in shock at what he had just attempted to do. 

Instead of looking apologetic or guilty or even shy, like he normally would, he smirked at him and leaned back, waiting for Mickey to do something. 

What, Mickey wasn’t sure of, but Ian watched him patiently.

He turned away and looked around the bar, letting reality sink in. He knew he was in a gay bar, he understood that, really, he did. But being a willing participant in a gay bar and just hanging out and having a drink were two different things. Also, he’d never kissed Ian out in public before, real public with other people around them, not just in the shadows of a building at night or in an empty van. Ian was usually so careful about their intimate moments - Mickey had attempted to set that boundary early in their relationship to avoid moments like these. He had always seemed hyper aware of pushing Mickey too far. He’d make a move and he’d wait for Mickey to reciprocate, but this Ian seemed to want to push all of his buttons. 

This time though, Ian was crossing that boundary again and there were witnesses. 

As Mickey looked around the bar, took in the other dancing male strippers in those too tight gold shorts, the men making out, and the stragglers gazing at other guys with stars in their eyes, the realization dawned on him.

And he realized what Ian had been waiting for all along.

They were in a gay bar.

Terry wouldn’t find out.

He could finally kiss Ian without having to worry about witnesses.

No one cared.

He could finally act on his constant desire to kiss Ian.

In public.

He gulped as his eyes landed back on him. He took in the smirk that slowly disappeared into a small understanding smile and he stared into those black lined eyes, waiting to see the Ian he knew so well inside and trying to understand this new one he was slowly getting used to. He could see the spark of his ginger in his eyes and the yearning to kiss him took over.

He could finally see the Ian he knew - before everything got so fucked up for them - inside, the one with the moral compass who was driven and disciplined and kind.

So he leaned forward, ready for the first time in his life to be unconfined by what he was.

He was ready to let go. 

And finally, as his lips met Ian’s and their tongues grazed one another, for the first time in a long time, he felt free to be himself.


	9. Coming Out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I have to tell you guys, I am most definitely done with fucking March. I feel like it's been a year when it's been a month...Anyway!
> 
> Thank you everyone for reading, commenting, and kudoing! 
> 
> You guys are the best. I found out some pretty bad news today, so getting this chapter out was the silver lining. I have officially joined the millions of people who do not have a job anymore...but I guess at least I have time to write :) 
> 
> I'm glad everyone is enjoying the story during these strange times. I had some difficulties with this chapter because bipolar Ian is tough, but I think I finally achieved what I wanted. Ian is an unreliable narrator and I wanted to make it as realistic as possible, so I hope you guys like the chapter. It's a super long one. I guess stay-at-home orders make me write more, who would've thought. Anyway, you can expect another chapter this week and maybe some bonus stuff? I'm not sure. I've been wanting to write more and now I definitely have the time to do it, so let's see what happens. 
> 
> And if you feel so inclined, drop your thoughts in a comment! 
> 
> Stay healthy and safe!

Ian wasn’t sure what was going on with him. 

He felt _uncomfortable_.

Agitated.

Angry.

But mostly, he felt like everything around him was going too fast and he was struggling to catch up.

Or maybe _he_ was going too fast and everything around him was trying to catch up.

The only time he didn’t feel like he was going to ripe his own skin off was when he was either at the club and able to dance and let loose or with Mickey, which was basically the only time he was able to be honest with what was going on in his life.

He felt sad that his family wasn’t making him feel like himself, but the way Lip and Fiona were looking at him lately was making him edgy. 

He wasn’t sure why, but he had this feeling they were talking to each other about him. And while he loved his younger siblings, they were starting to figure their own lives out.

Except Liam of course. 

Maybe that’s why he stayed away so long, he didn’t really think it would make a dent in their lives. 

Fiona and Lip had other shit going on, which was fine, but he didn’t want to bother them with something else like him feeling a little _more_ lately.

They had enough going on and he didn’t want to burden them.

And his younger siblings couldn’t understand because even though they had dealt with a lot, they were still innocent.

So he was alone in this.

But he also figured that everyone felt like this when they were, well, dealing with a shitty life.

When Mickey found him, though, he realized he didn’t have to be alone, especially when he had the opportunity to actually be with him again. He knew he shouldn’t let Mickey back in, but he missed his warmth and he was the only one who seemed to care when he was around. It seemed to Ian at least, Mickey didn’t really want to leave him either.

In Ian’s eyes they had finally stepped onto the same page together, although there were still aspects that seemed to get under his skin like Mickey being married and keeping him hidden away.

In the past, he was fine pushing it deeper and deeper inside of him, but now that they had the opportunity to be together again Ian didn’t want to make the same mistakes.

And one of those mistakes was being okay with being a secret.

Since they had gotten back together, they had gone from Mickey’s to Ian’s and back and forth. But the one constant was that neither of them seemed to want to part from the other. 

For now, they hadn’t talked about it.

He wondered if he should be concerned that their relationship had gone from 0 to 60 in the span of just a few weeks.

He was concerned about Mickey too and what exactly their future - or lack thereof - held. What did they mean to each other now that he had a wife? What about the baby? Was Mickey feeling residual effects from the whole...situation? 

He knew that he and Mickey could never be together again, not really, but the brunette wasn’t leaving anytime soon and he wasn’t asking him to, even though he probably should.

In his mind, he knew that Mickey wasn’t ever going to come out and he would forever just be the side piece, and yet, he couldn’t seem to bring himself to cut ties with him.

Although, he thought about it more and more as the Russian came around with the baby and reality really set in. He wondered if it would be easier to just say ‘goodbye’ now and let Mickey live the life he had before Ian came back into it.

But then he thought about saying ‘goodbye’ to him, his heartbeat quickened, his lungs stopped working, and his stomach twisted into knots.

So he opted for the easy way out and figured it was best not to talk about it until they had to.

And maybe that train of thought was what was contributing to this unsettled feeling inside him that never seemed to fucking leave.

This pit of uncertainty seemed to turn more and more into agitation, irritation, and then anger with just the smallest things that would set him off.

For now, he tried to keep it tamed because he wasn’t sure what to do with it.

And while he trusted Mickey, he didn’t want to put any more stress on his shoulders, especially when it was so hard to verbalize what was going on with him.

When it came to Mickey’s other life, it was easy to ignore the Russian when she wasn’t around all the time, even if she came over to show Mickey the kid and ask him for help. Ian knew he should feel sorry or concerned or whatever about her, but he wasn’t.

What he was concerned about was how Mickey was handling her. Sure, Ian thought about her when she was around, but what he really wondered about was how long Mickey was going to keep this up for. How long was he going to continue pretending he was straight? And how long was he going to continue lying to everyone around them and shackle himself to this life his father had pushed him into? 

_That_ day hadn’t disappeared from his mind and never would. 

He was sorry for the baby.

He knew what it felt like to grow up with a father who didn’t want him and a mother that wasn’t all there. While Svet-whatever probably wasn’t bipolar, she also didn’t seem to know how to care for a baby, which was evident when she brought the kid over with basically nothing on in the dead of Chicago winter. 

So he scraped together Liam’s too small clothes and dropped them off for Mandy to give to the Russian. He just hoped that she’d use them and properly learn how to care for a kid before he got sick. He didn’t think it was that hard anyway, he’d cared for Carl, Debbie, and Liam as they grew older.

But then again, most people didn’t have to learn quickly about these things as Gallagher kids did.

The thing was though, that no matter how long he spent with Mickey - and they were basically together most of the day except when he was at work - it never seemed to be enough.

He thought about Mickey leaving him to an obsessive point, which helped to spin his emotions out of control. 

It was a problem, Ian knew it was a problem because eventually when Terry Milkovich got out of prison he’d go back to living at his house all the time.

He’d forget about Ian, push him to the side, like he did when he got married; he’d pretend he and the Russian were happy and shit just to keep Terry satisfied.

Ian wasn’t ready for that. 

So that ball of irritation that rested in his stomach whispered things to push Mickey little by little further away. His subconscious made sure that the inevitable hurt wouldn’t be as bad when it finally came true, but Ian knew what that hurt would feel like - he’d felt it before - and there was no preparing for the ripping and aching of his heart.

When Mickey finally realized that he didn’t want a life living in secret with Ian and wanted the traditional values Svet-whatever and the child offered, he knew he’d be cast to the wayside because he was never important enough for anyone to choose him.

While Mickey was always there, at home, in bed waiting for him when he got off work, well on the floor until Carl and Liam went to bed, Ian waited for the day that he wasn’t, when Fiona told him that Mickey never came over. 

What Mickey did with his time was a mystery to Ian and he didn’t ask because he knew the more involved he got into his life, the harder it would be when Mickey left him.

That was the only thing he could focus on; he knew this time together wouldn’t last. 

It never did with them.

How could it when Terry was getting out shortly, Svet-whatever was hounding Mickey for shit, and there was a baby?

As idealistic as Ian had been when Mickey found him - how happy he was for them to be together again, he knew it would be over soon.

While he couldn’t quit Mickey, this time he was ready for it.

So he tried to make himself feel better by indulging in too many drugs at work and blowing or getting blown by random customers, so he could make a little bit of cash. 

He told himself it wasn’t really cheating because him and Mickey weren’t exclusive - he was married for fuck’s sake - and he still didn’t know how he felt about him. 

Ian knew how he felt about Mickey - he loved him. 

Had loved him for years.

And when he found him again, he wasn’t afraid of telling him.

However, telling Mickey that he loved him, Ian was sure would push him over the edge. Because as far as he knew about how Mickey felt toward him, it was all speculation. The one thing that stood out in his mind was begging him to choose him before his impending marriage and Mickey still going through with it. Sure, he claimed that he couldn’t just tell everyone how he felt, but Ian didn’t know why he just didn’t walk away. 

As they spent more time together, Ian had convinced himself that Mickey only felt guilty for driving him away in the first place and only found him again because his brother was sick and his father was dying. 

It wasn’t like he missed him or anything.

What he was afraid of and simultaneously hopeful for was pushing him away and making sure he stayed away this time.

Ian wasn’t strong enough to stay away, but maybe Mickey was.

The idea of living a life without Mickey though wasn’t something Ian wanted, but he also knew that time was coming sooner rather than later and he better get used to it.

Each day was one day closer to the end of their fledgling relationship.

So he was living in this constant influx of wanting and wishing Mickey would go away because - because having to watch him with that stupid fucking Russian or cater to his father’s every whim wasn’t something he wanted to see again.

He was fucking tired of it.

And he wanted it to end.

Sometimes.

Other times, he wanted to take him far away from here, change their names, and start over. 

* * *

He had awoken early as he had been doing lately to find Carl, Liam, and Mickey still asleep. He decided to go for a jog as the sun rose over the lake and then he headed home to do some pull-ups before anyone woke up. 

He was on number 30 when Carl came over to him with a curious look on his face.

“Mickey your boyfriend?” Carl asked as Ian finished off number 30. He focused on continuing to count each pull-up to buy him some time to answer his little brother’s question.

Ian regarded Carl through cool eyes and considered how to answer him. “We hang out.” he said finally because while he had thought of Mickey as his boyfriend when they were younger and he referred to him as such, now when he had a wife and suffered from internalized homophobia, he had no idea what to call their relationship. From past experience, Ian knew that the word ‘boyfriend’ set him off, so he tried to avoid the term as much as possible.

“He’s in your bed.” Carl stated as if that explained everything. 

Ian thought back to the night before when Mickey had crawled into bed with him with cold feet and a smirk on his lips. He smiled slightly as he thought about how he was supposed to wake him up before his run to get him to move back onto the floor, but didn’t care enough to do so, it was only Carl after all. Besides, he looked too cute cuddled into the bed to wake up, so Ian had ‘forgotten’ and figured he’d deal with the repercussions later.

“Yeah, his family’s a nightmare.” he said trying to finish off his pull-ups at an even 50.

“Think I got a girlfriend.” Carl said, hitting his stomach to get his attention.

He stopped at 40 and grinned down at him, “Oh yeah?” Then he picked up again wanting to finish off his set before Mickey woke up.

“Her family is a nightmare too.”

Ian smiled slightly, “whose isn’t?”

“You love Mickey?” Carl asked, suddenly curious and Ian began to wonder where all of this was coming from. Did Carl think he was in love with this mystery girl? Did Carl overhear something Mickey said?

Ian stopped and stared down at his little brother unable to answer him honestly. Yes, he knew he loved Mickey, but as ready as he was about to admit it to himself, telling his little brother wasn’t what he wanted to do.

Especially when he wasn’t sure if he could even tell Mickey for fear he would bolt.

“I like how he smells.” he said instead and Carl smiled softly as if he could read between the lines of what Ian was really saying.

The moment was interuped by Mickey calling down the hallway at them to ask why Carl was asking stupid questions and Ian thought about what Mickey would’ve said if he _had_ told his little brother the truth.

That he did love Mickey, more than anything?

Would Ian have ever even seen him again?

Carl grumbled that Mickey was mean and then added some good news about Frank, which Ian didn’t really care about. His little brother stalked off downstairs while Ian advanced toward the bathroom to see what his boyfriend(?) wanted to do today.

He wondered if it would be unprecedented to sneak in a question of whether or not they _were_ boyfriends. 

It would at least make it easier to explain to his family.

“I gotta go to the church today for the christening.” Mickey said as he took a piss.

Ian watched him and considered his words as he thought about dealing with another run in with the claw-hammer welding bride.

It wasn’t what he pictured them doing on his day off, but if that’s what Mickey wanted to do, then he was fine with it.

He wasn’t exactly interested in spending his day off at the church, but he’d rather be where Mickey was and since they didn’t go anywhere without the other, unless it was to work - although, in fairness, Mickey came with him then too - he figured he’d be going.

Even if seeing the life Mickey really led made him feel like the mistress he was only seen as.

Ian wasn’t stupid. 

He knew logically that Mickey hadn’t wanted to marry Svet-whatever. He wasn’t one of those guys that swung both ways. Ian watched how he looked at girls and it wasn’t the way he looked at guys. He could tell the difference. It was subtle, but it was there. One way he could tell was that Mickey looking at other women didn’t bother him, but when he looked at men, it did.

But what he couldn’t understand was why Mickey had done it in the first place. It was something that even months later still bothered him.

And asking Mickey wasn’t on the table.

This wasn’t the turn of the century, this was modern day and Ian didn’t understand why Mickey didn’t see that. He didn’t _have_ to marry this whore just cause she got pregnant, especially when he didn’t want the kid. Sure, the circumstances were shitty, but Ian couldn’t help but feel badly for the kid, though, that didn’t mean that Mickey owed anyone anything.

Not when his father wanted to fuck the gay out of him.

On the other hand, he was secretly glad that Mickey didn’t really want anything to do with any of it. Now that they were together all the time and Mickey was back in his bed, he knew he didn’t want any of this. 

At least, he thought he didn’t. 

Sometimes, it was hard to tell with him. 

One minute he’d be telling the Rusian to fuck off and then another he’d be asking Ian to seduce some guy to rob him so he could get money to feed the wife and the kid. What Ian was struggling with was why had he done it in the first place when he seemed to hate every second of being a husband and a dad?

Why did he push him away and basically tell him that he didn’t care when they ended up back together a few weeks later?

Ian knew that Mickey loved him.

At least he thought he did.

Sometimes he wasn’t so sure.

Just like he figured that Mickey knew.

It was verbalizing it that left Ian unsure of anything. He may feel it in his bones, but it wasn’t worth shit if Mickey was still gallivanting with the Russian and he was his little secret.

And if Ian never heard him say the words, then how could he be sure?

It wasn’t like Ian didn’t consider telling him either. Carl bringing it up was something that Ian had struggled to say since they came back into each other’s orbits.

In his opinion, they just hadn’t shown it and Carl was definitely not going to be the way they had that conversation.

But if left up to Ian, they probably wouldn’t ever have the conversation until he decided he finally wanted to push Mickey away.

“I thought you didn’t care.” Ian said finally feeling the edginess wrap around his heart as he heard Mickey telling him that he was giving up on them again, that he wanted to play daddy dearest to the son he didn’t want and the bride that he detested. 

And yet, the haze of guilt edged into his heart too, that kid was going to need someone who cared and he didn’t blame Mickey for not wanting to be involved because the conception was haunting. The kid though was an innocent person and no one should grow up feeling unwanted.

Ian should know. 

“I don’t.” Mickey said, washing his hands and strategically looking down at them.

“Why are you going?” he asked, watching Mickey’s back carefully to look for signs of what he was thinking.

With Mickey, he always had to look for signs because he never came right out and said what he was thinking.

Obviously, the fact Ian didn’t know how he felt about him was evidence of that.

“He’s my son, man.” 

“Alright, I’ll get dressed.” Ian said and headed back into the bedroom to start getting dressed.

“No, no. Look it’s fine, I’ll go alone. I’ll be back in a couple of hours.” Mickey called after him and he felt his insides freeze at the words.

Ian immediately felt his hackles rise. 

Why was Mickey suddenly being secretive? Why didn’t he want him to come? What had he done to push Mickey away? Was this finally the end? What was he hiding?

As he considered the fact that Mickey didn’t want him around, he felt himself dig his metaphorical claws into the brunette to ensure that he wasn’t going anywhere and couldn’t shake him off as easily as he had wanted to. 

The anger began to rise within him at how easily Mickey could shake him off, but he couldn’t do the same. If he was nothing to him, then why was he even here? 

To fuck?

He wasn’t going to be tossed away like another piece of trash everyone seemed to see him as. 

Even though a small voice whispered to him that Mickey would be better off without him, he still felt his anger wrap around his heart. 

It wasn’t like he could offer him anything except a better than average blow job and getting some good D. 

He had nothing, he was nothing, and yet, Mickey seemed to want to hang out with him anyway without wanting anything from him, which was weird and confusing for him.

Well, he got laid pretty regularly and that was something.

Everyone wanted something from him. Fiona wanted him to act mature and take care of their siblings. Lip always wanted to talk about his girl problems and have him tag along as a sidekick. Frank and Monica...while they’d never wanted him to be their child, they did need him for stuff. 

Welfare checks.

Stealing.

Distracting.

And then there were the men.

All the men who always wanted Ian for his body, his dick, and his charm; he was kinda tired of it. 

He was tired of a lot of it and Mickey was just becoming like everyone else. He didn’t want Ian around unless he could fuck him or distract him from the wife he never wanted. 

Well, then Ian wasn’t playing this game anymore.

“What, you don’t want me to go?” he asked finally. He turned around to grab Mickey’s shirt and pressed him against the wall.

He tried to ignore how Mickey’s body felt pressed against his own and his own body’s reaction. 

He stared into his blue eyes and he saw trepidation reflecting back at him and his stomach squeezed tighter and that little voice in his head asked why didn’t Mickey want him around? 

Had he changed his mind?

What had he done?

Were he and Svet-whatever actually the real deal and Ian was getting in the way?

Was he even going to a christening or was he just going to spend time with the Russian and his kid?

Ian felt a bubble of jealousy form in his stomach and he tried to push it away as Mickey pressed him to the other wall and gave him a flirty look.

“Probably best if you don’t, tough guy.” he said and smirked slightly as Ian allowed his eyes to roam over his face trying to tell if he was lying to him.

“Yeah, for you maybe.” Ian said, staring into his eyes and searching for that reflection of truth he yearned for, but Mickey wasn’t meeting his eyes and it made that bubble of jealousy twist in his stomach. 

“Why you gotta bust my balls, man?” Mickey asked, backing away and giving him an annoyed look.

Ian swallowed thickly wishing suddenly he could take it back, but on the other hand, he was glad he said something. 

It was out there now and Mickey would have to deal with it.

His South Side thug was so adamant about hiding their relationship. The more time they spent as more of a couple than fuck buddies Ian’s desire to make it official began to outweigh Mickey’s attempts of keeping it on the downlow.

He watched as Mickey left and went back into the bedroom and he followed slowly wondering how he could try to articulate what was bothering him exactly.

Carl’s words floated back to him and he thought back to all of the times he hoped and wished and wanted Mickey to call him his boyfriend. While he’d always seen Mickey as his boyfriend, he never really thought he felt the same.

“Just wondering if we’re a couple or not.” he said manhandling him to get Mickey to look him in the eye to see what he was thinking because he knew whatever he said wouldn’t align with how he was feeling.

Ian needed to see his eyes to know the truth.

Mickey was just a mystery that way.

He countered his move and tossed him onto the bed, so that he was above him with his hair flopping into his eyes and the sun hitting the side of his face so that he glowed above Ian.

And his corny brain likened the South Side thug to a fucking angel.

He would’ve died if anyone heard him think that right then.

“Of course we are.” Mickey said quietly and Ian felt himself melt a little, but because he was still feeling angry and couldn’t help but push, he took it one step further and circled back to what was always bothering him.

“A couple who hides?” 

And he watched Mickey’s delicate demeanor harden like rapidly freezing water and he felt the guilty haze edge into his chest pushing out the anger

He heard Mickey tell him he’d deal with him later and then go to take a shower to start getting ready to leave the house, but Ian continued to lie there as he thought about how things had been with them lately.

It was weird.

One minute he wanted Mickey more than life itself and the next he became afraid of losing him, so he pushed him away. And sometimes that pushing came into wanted Mickey to finally be free. That urge to make him leave, turned back into caring more about Mickey and wanting to make sure that he was with people who cared about him and neither the Russian nor his father cared about him.

 _Ian_ cared about him and wanted to make sure he was cared for and then he was right back at feeling guilty and wanting him close to him all of the time.

It was a rollercoaster that Ian was progressively becoming more and more tired with, but couldn’t seem to shake.

The thing was, he didn’t think Mickey was fighting as hard for their relationship as he was. He was the one who came home for Mickey and yeah, he left for him too, but he was also the one who was a secret.

And he was tired of being a secret.

And he was tired of watching Mickey keep him a secret.

Whether it was hiding from Carl or Mickey’s wife, they were constantly lying to everyone and keeping their relationship in the dark.

And he wanted to show Mickey off and tell people they’re dating and in love and will be together forever.

Even if that’s something that only happened in his dreams.

Everytime that he thought that’s what Mickey wanted too, he went and did something that told him otherwise. Like demand to sleep on the floor and move away from him when he wanted to kiss him or suddenly wanting to be at the christening of a child he - to Ian’s eyes - disliked.

Ian knew that it was complicated for Mickey and the more he was privy to what was going on, the more he wondered why he even wanted him in his life. He had so much going on, what did he really add to it?

He heard Mickey start to get ready when the water shut off and he continued to lay on the bed until he popped back in to tell him bye.

“Listen, man, it’s nothing personal. I just have to go take care of this and it would...it would be easier if you...weren’t there.” Mickey said quietly. 

Ian continued to stare at the ceiling until he finally moved his head to look at Mickey who was still standing in the doorway.

“I’ll be back in a few hours and then I’ll make it up to you, Firecrotch.” he smirked and gave Ian a wink before leaving.

Suddenly, Ian felt anger rise in his chest as his mind cast back to the wedding a few months - weeks? Ian didn’t know anymore - ago when Mickey had said something similar. 

The more reasonable part of his brain reminded him what Mickey had also said he wasn’t able to vocalize how he felt. But the thing was, Ian didn’t either, not really. The only person he told anything honestly to was Mickey and occasionally Lip and Fiona.

But still, the knowledge that he was being cast aside for the fucking whore _again_ so that Mickey could play the straight card, made a knot of tension settle in his chest. While the initial anger of playing the mistress again was frustrating, his desire to be with Mickey outweighed it. 

Again.

So he started to get dressed too and hoped to catch up to him.

At least to make sure that he wasn’t lying to him the way Ian suspected.

* * *

Hours later, Ian found himself sitting at the bar counter of The Alibi playing with peanut shells and sipping at the occasional drink Kev brought over, a knowing look on his features.

Ian tried to tamper down the anger that seemed to be rolling in, but it was difficult to do when he had to watch Mickey put on a fake front.

He had sat through a fucking christening for his guy and all he did was ask him to leave because his fucking wife wanted him to. 

He tried to tap down on his anger, but it was like a wave crashing into him. When Mickey came over to ask him to leave because Svetlana told him to, it was hard to take him seriously when it seemed like Mickey was enjoying the situation. For the rest of the afternoon, he had to watch the brunette from afar as he fawned over a kid he didn’t want, a Russian whore that hung on his arm, and his homophobic piece of shit father smiling as if everything was okay.

But it wasn’t okay because Ian knew the truth and he didn’t understand why Mickey kepting lying to everyone.

The longer Ian watched the events unfold the angrier he became.

And the more he wondered if the Mickey Milkovich that was in front of him was the Mickey Milkovich that he knew all along.

Was this really Mickey or was the one that was with Ian the real one?

He could see Mickey’s life perfectly in this instant as the Milkvoches took shots and laughed together with hidden guns in their pockets and grins on their lips.

He saw Mickey’s potential life with Svetlana, a son, and a proud father. Was this or their time together the lie?

He couldn’t take Mickey being as fake as he was acting, even if he claimed that what they had made him free. 

The Mickey in front of him was someone Ian didn’t know and he didn’t like it.

Even though when Mickey told him that, he felt a twist of desire and longing to just reach forward and kiss him, to reiterate that he felt the same, but their surroundings and his anger held him back.

The rage rose swiftly and dark as he drank his drinks and thought about what Mickey had said.

While it was romantic and Ian’s gut twisted in anticipation and love, he also knew that he had to stop fooling himself. 

He always got too little too late. 

Mickey was never going to change. 

He would always give him little nuggets of signs that he loved him and while Ian knew in the deep recesses of his brain that was the case, he was tired of playing the mistress.

He loved everything about Mickey; he just wished that he wasn’t embarrassed about him being with him.

He wanted all of Mickey or he wanted none of him, he decided. 

If the Mickey that was in front of him hanging out with two people who had treated him like shit, then Ian didn’t want any part of it.

Still though, what he was about to do was going to be something he knew he would regret. And yet, that small voice reminded him that Mickey would get bored anyway and leave to run back to his wife.

Ian would never be enough for him, he saw it on his face as he moved around The Alibi interacting with his family and Terry’s cronies.

The longer he sat there watching the party, the more he realized Mickey would never leave this life, he would never face who he really was.

He’d never really embrace and love himself the way Ian did.

He would never be free, Ian didn’t understand how he didn’t see that.

“Just wanna let you know I’m leaving.” Ian said when Mickey finally came over to him.

Distractedly, Mickey said, “Okay I’ll see you back at the place.”

And Ian felt the anger wind up because he wished that Mickey would said ‘our place,’ but that would be too much for the emotionally stunted man. 

His mouth was moving before he had even figured out what he was going to say “no, don’t bother. We’re done.” he said and he winced internally as he thought about how he was pushing away the one person who actually wanted him around - or pretended to. 

His mouth formed the word ‘pussy’ and told him that he was too afraid to be true to himself. He was afraid of his father and his wife and he wasn’t doing this anymore - couldn’t do this anymore.

He looked away from the pain in Mickey’s eyes and told himself he was doing the right thing.

The rage pushed him forward as he struggled to get out of The Alibi and away from Mickey and all of the issues that involved wives, babies, and disappointed fathers. 

He didn’t fully pay attention to what he was saying to the brunette, too overwhelmed with his anger to want to tone it down. His only thought was that he wanted to hurt Mickey the way he had been hurting him by keeping him a secret. 

He was tired of being a secret.

He was halfway out the door before he realized that he had broken it off with him and the ache in his heart was already agonizing. He was already regretting his decision because the idea of sleeping alone in his bed was a little daunting, but before he could step foot outside the bar, Mickey banged on the table to get everyone’s attention.

“Hey. Excuse me! Can I have everyone’s attention please?” he said as everyone turned to him. “I just want everyone in here to know that I’m fucking gay. Big ol’Mo.” 

He looked directly at Ian and asked him, “are you happy now?”

And he felt his heart stop as he watched Mickey nervously look around waiting to see everyone’s reaction. For a few seconds, the anger seemed to disappate and then as Terry ran toward’s him to ‘beat the gay out of him or whatever’ Ian finally had a target that he could hit to channel his rage.

And he’d been wanting to hit Terry for a long as fuck time, especially when the memories of _that_ day came rushing back while he was began to hit Mickey. 

* * *

“You ready to head home?” Ian asked quietly when he finally pulled away from kissing Mickey’s forehead and looked around at the few stragglers coming out of The Alibi. Besides for two of Terry’s cronies, no one else had approached them for being gay and Ian was thankful. He didn’t think he had anymore fight left in him and his ribs were really fucking hurting.

He felt Mickey nod his head and they began to make their way back to his - now, thankfully empty - house. 

He couldn’t believe what had happened, how they had gone from breaking up because of Mickey’s fears to him coming out to the fight and finally, to not getting arrested. Ian couldn’t believe what the night had brought and as they walked home, he began to feel guilty for what he had done.

If it hadn’t been for him, then Mickey wouldn’t have felt forced to come out. While he was glad that they could finally be together without anything and anyone getting in the way, he was a little concerned about the repercussions for his South Side thug. 

Sure, Mickey put on a tough front, but getting the shit beaten out of you in the middle of a crowded bar after coming out, well, it would take its toll on anyone.

“Are you okay?” Ian asked when they were a block from The Alibi. Mickey had been quiet during most of the time they had been walking, not even bothering to smoke a cigarette, which to Ian told him that something was definitely wrong.

He glanced over at him and Ian couldn’t help but notice the shine glistened in his eyes. 

“Fine, Gallagher.” Mickey said stiffly.

Ian frowned and felt a tightening in his chest that he recognized slowly as guilt. He swallowed thickly as he thought about the fact that he was the cause of Mickey’s hurt. 

If he hadn’t pushed him - if he hadn’t tried to break up with him - if he hadn’t been such an asshole. Maybe things would have transpired differently. 

The guilt intensified as they finally got back to the Milkovich residence and Ian couldn’t ignore the tiny voice in his head that whispered that this was his fault. 

As they walked up the stairs, Ian reached out a hand to stop him and Mickey looked at him with hard, glistening eyes.

He could see him chewing on the side of his cheek in what Ian thought of was a move to stop himself from crying.

“How about we take a shower? Wash the blood off.” Ian asked quietly.

Mickey nodded numbly. He went into the house and toward the bathroom. Ian followed after him, grabbing two clean looking towels. He stopped Mickey before he entered the bathroom and took off both of their jackets before joining him in the dirty bathroom. 

Ian locked the door and maneuvered Mickey into the shower. 

He didn’t say anything, somehow able to tell that Mickey didn’t want to talk just yet. He turned the water on and tried to get it as warm as possible, but it was only coming out lukewarm and he felt another pang of unhappiness at not being able to give Mickey what he needed right now.

He helped Mickey undress and get into the shower. He tried to ignore the blossoming of deep purple bruises across his body like flowers blooming, but his eyes lingered on them long enough for Mickey to give him a hard look. He ignored him and began to remove his own clothes to follow after him into the shower.

Washing the shorter man with the tiny bar of soap that was in the shower, Ian made sure to be careful with Mickey as he wiped the grime and dirt away from his pale skin.

“I’m not a fucking child, Gallagher.” Mickey said without as much of his usual venom.

Ian smiled sadly staring down at Mickey’s lightly freckled shoulders. He had turned away from him and was staring at the showerhead, but Ian knew that it was his way of trying to control his emotions.

“I know, but I enjoy doing this. Besides, it’s not always about you.” Ian said, trying to be sassy and lighten the mood.

He saw Mickey’s shoulders relax and he moved his soapy hands lower until they rested on his hips, right near the ass he loved so much. He gave him a light squeeze and then dropped a quick kiss to the side of his neck before starting on Mickey’s lower half. 

“Did I ever tell you that I used to have to wash Debbie and Carl when we were younger?” Ian said, trying to distract Mickey.

Mickey turned slightly to look at him and then quickly away, but not fast enough. Ian could tell his eyes were still shiny and were becoming red, which told him that he’d been crying or was about to, so he began to tell him about his childhood. 

“Yeah, this is before Liam came along. See, since Fiona was the oldest, she’d always work to figure out how to get us food and Lip since he was good with money and counting and shit always worked out how to pay the bills. I wasn’t...I wasn’t really...Fiona always asked me if I could do the little stuff. Cheer up a crying kid, wash a kid, you know, basic shit. I mean I was six or something like that, so I didn’t have that much experience doing what Fiona and Lip seemed to have done forever, but...yeah...I used to look after my siblings and eventually, it kinda grows on you. I always watched Debbie and Carl while Fiona and Lip tried to make sure that we had shelter over our heads and food in our bellies...so what I’m saying is that you’re in good hands.” he finished lamely thinking back to the years of his childhood that were involved in caring for his siblings. 

He wished that he could tell Mickey a happier, more loving story, but he didn’t have many and he wasn’t exactly in the mood to think of a half-assed joke.

Mickey turned to him suddenly and gave him a small smile that made Ian feel even worse than what he was already experiencing. He wasn’t even able to cheer up the man he loved, what good was he?

“I already knew I was in good hands, Ian.” Mickey said softly and Ian’s heart felt like it was going to explode.

He wrapped his arms around Mickey, the little bar of soap crushed in his fist as he brought his body close to him. He dipped his face into the croak of Mickey’s shoulder and he felt his arms wrap around his waist as they both held each other their tears mixing with the water.

* * *

When the water began to get cold and the dirt and blood was washed away, which didn’t take very long, Ian turned it off. He handed Mickey a towel first before wrapping himself in one. They wandered back to the bedroom and dried off there before crawling into bed together. 

At first, Ian wasn’t sure if he should cuddle into Mickey’s back, but the brunette shuffling closer to him and plumped the pillow up so they could both lay on it, which convinced Ian to move closer.

“What are you thinking?” Ian asked as they both lay in bed, his arm wrapped around Mickey and pulling him as close as possible.

There was a long pause and Ian wondered if he was going to answer him.

“I’m thinking about what you said in the bar.” Mickey said finally, “About how you think I’m a pussy and afraid of everything and shit.”

Ian felt himself choke on his own saliva and he moved to pull away, but Mickey suddenly latched onto his arm to keep him there. He stared at the pale skin of his neck and wondered why he was even putting up with him in the first place.

He was only bringing Mickey pain.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have--”

“No, you were right. I was afraid. I’ve always been afraid.” he said and turned over to look at him in the face.

Ian could see his eyes were red and the blue looked even brighter than usual. He gulped and wondered if this was the part where Mickey told him to leave and never come back.

“I’d probably still be if you hadn’t - hadn’t pushed--”

“I shouldn’t have--”

“But you did.”

“And I’m sor--”

“Shut up, Firecrotch, and let me talk.”

Ian stared into the space above Mickey’s shoulder as he began to talk.

“You shouldn’t have pushed me...but I think if you hadn’t...if you hadn’t, I’d still be...afraid. And it’s not fair to you or fucking Svetlana or that kid. My life has always been decided by everyone else and now that I finally am free, the only thing I want is you, Ian. But I’m still annoyed that you did what you did - that was fucked up, man. Don’t do that again.” Mickey said and reached over to touch his face. 

Before Ian could react, he leaned forward and kissed Ian softly on his lips. “I’m too sore and tired to fuck tonight, but if you stick around, I’ll be up for a round in the morning.” he wiggled his eyebrows and Ian cracked a numb smile back. He watched Mickey turn over and take his arm with him so that Ian’s arm was wrapped back around Mickey. He scooted closer until the bare skin of his chest was pressed against his back and he never felt so warm in his life.

He tightened his hold around Mickey’s body and buried his nose in his neck, one of his favorite spots. He breathed him in, trying to find a calmness in his scent, a scent he loved. 

He thought for a long time about what Mickey said and the events of the evening. He tried sleeping to push away those guilty thoughts and feelings. He tried to focus on Mickey telling him all in one day that they were a couple - God was that only this morning - that he was the only thing he wanted, and that he made him feel free, but Ian couldn’t focus on that.

Instead, he thought about how upset Mickey must be with him and how he forced him to do something he wasn’t comfortable with.

He felt the guilt eat a whole into his stomach at how he tried to break up with him because he wasn’t getting his way.

He was a terrible boyfriend, no wonder Mickey didn’t want him.

His erratic behavior was starting to hurt Mickey and while before he’d thought that this was just whatever to the brunette, the last few hours proved otherwise.

Perhaps, even though Mickey never said it, his actions are really what told Ian all he needed to know.

Coming out for him was something that told Ian that Mickey cared a lot, more than a lot and more than cared.

Even though Ian knew Mickey loved him, seeing him act out his feelings by coming out for him, finding him in a dirty gay bar, or even beating someone up for him because they took advantage of him, said more than the three little words Ian had been waiting so patiently to hear.

The crushing guilt began to wrap itself around his stomach until he felt like he was captured in a black hole and struggling to free himself.

He tightened his hold around Mickey, listened to his steady breathing, he pressed a kiss against the soft skin there that he loved so much and tried to will away the bad by focusing on the good.

But it felt impossible.

He felt like he was drowning.

He closed his eyes and tried to hold tight to this feeling because that blackness that was threatening to surround him was telling him that something bad was coming. He did what he thought would keep away that bleakness just a big longer and whispered, “I’m here and I love you more than anything” into Mickey’s skin before he finally drifted off to sleep.


	10. Mental Health

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mickey begins to realize what being with someone who is bipolar really means. Set early season 5 before the psych ward.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you everyone for reading, commenting and kudoing! I know I'm three days early (?) (what are days anymore though?) but I wrote the next chapter and was happy with it, so I wanted to post. I was hesitant with this chapter since I did want to add a scene before going into the psych ward, but it didn't seem to fit. Anyway, this is a bittersweet chapter and I hope you guys like it!
> 
> In other news, since this story is coming to a close soon (6 more chapters! I think?) I've started working on my next story, which I'm super excited for, so look out for that soon. It'll be AU with hints of canon. Nothing too out of the ordinary, but I was interesting in exploring a relationship that was more around Ian's bipolar and Mickey's internalized homophobia, more so than in the show. I was going to go with a best friends fic, but this one has been eating away at me.
> 
> Any who, if you have any thoughts about this chapter, what comes next, the new story, or in general life things, then drop a comment! Enjoy and stay healthy and safe!

Mickey found himself at the library in the middle of the day on a Wednesday. He had told Ian that he had to go to the Rub N Tug, but really he just needed time to go to the library and do some research about this bipolar shit.

Because he really didn’t fuckin’ understand it and he was tired of other people trying to inform him about  _ his  _ boyfriend’s mental health.

Fiona, Lip, and Mandy had attempted again and again to explain it to him and he got the jist of it, but he still wasn’t really sure what to expect or look for with Ian.

But he didn’t understand what bipolar meant because before he left he was fuckin’ fine and now he just seemed...different.

All he knew was that he was acting weird.

And Mickey didn’t like feeling like he was behind with someone he...well, he loved if he had to be honest. Also, he wasn’t sure what to do anymore about it all.

He just felt...out of his depth and he didn’t like feeling stupid. 

One minute Gallagher seemed fine and then another minute he was pulling knives on Mandy’s shithead boyfriend or collecting suitcases and putting them in piles all over the house in some weird fixation of organization.

He wasn’t ever really sure what was coming next with Ian, but he knew that they were going to get to a point where Mickey couldn’t control him anymore.

And he wasn’t sure he was really looking forward to that part.

But the thing was, until it was in his face and happening, he wasn’t sure what to look for with Ian other than fucking out of control.

So he went to the library to use one of their computers and maybe find a book or two on mental health.

Because since he was already out of his depth he might as well walk further into the deep end of the pool. 

He felt out of his comfort zone when he was in the Chicago Public Library, but the place was big enough to get lost and disappear for awhile until he had to head back and stop Ian from cutting someone’s throat due to flared up anger or baking a shit ton of pancakes because he had too much energy. 

He stopped at the front desk for a temporary library code before he went over to a computer to sign in. He clicked on the internet and waited for it to load. Eventually, Google came up and he considered what to type into the search bar until he decided to go for the easiest option and put in ‘bipolar disorder.’

99 million search results popped up and he instantly felt overwhelmed by the response to the two simple words that, in reality, were anything but simple.

The first thing that caught his eye though was a little snippet about bipolar disorder. The blurb stated that it caused ‘unusual shifts’ in mood, daily activities, energy, concentration, and basically fucked up your life.

Mickey wanted to roll his eyes because  _ of course _ that’s a fucking given. But then he read the symptoms and saw  _ mania _ and  _ mood swings _ , which Ian definitely had. Lastly, the treatment said  _ psychotherapy _ and he felt his stomach drop at that. 

Psychotherapy sounded like something that would happen in a psych ward or something.

He felt his stomach roll as he remembered how only months ago when Ian had his first episode the first thing that Fiona said to him was  _ he may have to be hospitalized.  _ And he immediately felt himself want to chain Ian to him so he could never leave.

Or his family never sent him away to a fucking psych ward.

He allowed his hands to hover over the keys and debated if he wanted to look up what exactly psychotherapy actually meant, but he felt afraid to see what it entailed. Instead, he bit his lip as he stared at the word and then moved down the page to see what else people said.

He saw some questions under People Ask such as ‘what’s a bipolar person like?’ and if there was a difference between bipolar disorder and depression. He clicked on the first question and read the snippet. His stomach dropped again as he digested the words.

The description matched Ian to a tee.

For a second, before he dove into the research, he had hoped that everyone was wrong, that Ian was just tweakin’ out from spending hours dancing for crusty old men and taking too many drugs. But that description was...it was Ian.

He sat back in the chair and thought about the last few months, really ever since Ian had returned.

It had been easy in the beginning to brush aside what Lip and Fiona had been telling him, but then there was that  _ really _ bad episode after he had come out and well… Sure, Ian bounced back  _ eventually _ and at first he could brush away what was going on, but the crazier shit that Ian did, the harder it was to pretend it wasn’t happening. 

So while Ian lost his shit, Mickey had settled himself comfortably into the sea of denial. 

And while Ian didn’t think anything was wrong.

Mickey was beginning to see the little things that were different about Ian.

He was way more hyper than he had ever been before.

He was up _ all of the time _ .

Mickey didn’t think he slept anymore and he was beginning to see dark circles under his eyes.

When he told Fiona that he could hardly keep up with him, he was being honest. He really  _ couldn’t _ . Not only was he running or doing pull-ups or whatever all the time, he was also all over the place.

All of the time.

And it was fucking tiring.

He was constantly bouncing off the walls.

From threatening homophobic protestors with crosses to placing a knife to Kenyatta’s throat, he seemed ready to snap at any moment.

Even during the quiet moments when it was just the two of them, Ian was full of energy.

Before, he used to be soft and warm. He comforted Mickey all of the time; he was home to him. Now he was burning, like fire all of the time and Mickey was worried about what came next.

Sometimes, very rarely, Ian seemed to be level, but then he’d snap at the smallest thing and it was beginning to...Mickey wasn’t sure how to help and that...that was scaring him.

He was tired of running after Ian. He was exhausted trying to persuade him from that proverbial edge he was standing right next to - one foot off of it all of the time.

He knew he should be more preoccupied with Svetlana and the kid, but his main focus was Ian and getting him to calm down.

He didn’t really care about Svetlana or the kid, not really, not when Ian was acting so fucking crazy and maybe he should feel guilty about that, but he didn’t fucking care. 

Ian was his family and he wasn’t turning his back on family.

The suitcase collection, though, was the breaking point and he wasn’t sure where to go from here.

He hadn’t ever seen anyone act the way Ian had over trying to organize shitty suitcases and it was getting to him. He was finally beginning to see where this road could lead and it was causing his stomach to twist in knots.

So he took a page out of Ian’s book - the old Ian - and he buckled down and headed to the library. He figured if he didn’t know something, then maybe he’d do some research and find out.

But all the information at the library left him with was a cold feeling in his stomach and an urge to see his boyfriend and make sure that he wasn’t acting unusual or shifty or  _ maniacal _ . 

He could handle Ian and he’d chase after Ian, but watching him unravel the way he was, especially with the fucking suitcases was probably the scariest thing he’d ever seen and he’d seen some fucked up shit.

He clicked around to a few of the websites, needing a distraction from the growing bout of coldness that seemed to settle in his bones and he dug a little deeper until his 30 minutes were up and he was told he had to get another password.

Then he went over to reception and asked for some books on mental health. The old grey haired woman pointed over to a section in the corner where the shelves toured over him and he looked at the titles trying to find something that stuck out to him. He rubbed his thumb over his top lip as he looked through the shelves, trying to gasp the length of some of the titles and the thickness of the books.

He wasn’t dyslexic by far, but lugging a large, thick book with a title like  _ Loving Someone With Bipolar Disorder  _ would definitely get his ass kicked in the South Side. And Ian accidentally seeing a title like  _ The Bipolar Disorder Survival Guide _ would definitely cause him to go ape-shit, which Mickey wasn’t 100 percent sure what that meant these days. While he may be becoming more comfortable and knowledgeable about this bipolar shit, Ian still didn’t acknowledge that anything was wrong with him.

Mickey got it. 

If he was told he was going to end up like his father because he’d been to juvie and had a rap sheet just like his father had at his age, then he’d feel some type of a way about it too. But he knew Ian wouldn’t stand by and let him just sulk in it. He’d do something about it, so Mickey was too.

He grabbed a book at random that looked like it could be a little helpful and he tucked it under his arm. Trying not to make eye contact with anyone, he walked out of the library and back toward the South Side.

* * *

Mickey got home to find Ian organizing a pile of sneakers and boots that seemed to keep falling into each other and muttering to himself. No one else was in the house, which was a first and something he was thankful for because he needed a minute to adjust to seeing his boyfriend on the floor surrounded by other people’s shit. He shoved down the discomfort of seeing Ian acting so...crazy and kissed the top of his head. The moment he touched Ian, he felt a little calmer knowing that he was okay. When he looked up at him and smiled, for a moment, Mickey considered just pretending the bipolar shit wasn’t happening. But then he looked down and saw the black, pleather tennis shoe in his hand.

“Is this a boot or a tennis shoe? I can’t decide.” he muttered.

“How about you leave the organizing for later Carrot Top and we figure out dinner? Svetlana and Nicka are out so we have the place to ourselves.” he said and wiggled his eyebrows, which made Ian smile slightly.

“I need to finish…” he muttered going back to his pile.

“Come on, man, you can do it later. I promise after we eat and bang, you can do all the organizing in the world.”

Ian looked at him in an unsure manner and Mickey struggled to keep a smile on his face. His stomach twisted in a way that was rapidly becoming familiar to him as he struggled to talk Ian away from his weird organization fixation on random shit, so they could hang out. 

He remembered the days that Ian almost jumped with joy to hang out with him and he tried to push the melancholy feeling away as he stared down at his redhead as he twisted back and forth staring at both of the piles of shit he was struggling to organize.

“I haven’t seen you all day.” he added quietly. “I missed you.” he admitted even more quietly.

Ian’s face turned toward him and broke into a genuine smile. He reached forward to wrap his arm around Mickey’s leg and bring his face to rest against his knee and lower thigh.

“I missed you too, Mick, but...what if--”

“I won’t let anything bad happen to your piles.” Mickey tried really hard not to roll his eyes and he found himself succeeding when Ian tightened his grip on his leg and dropped the shoe on the floor.

“I’ll order us some pizza and maybe you want to pop in a movie. If you can find the TV.” Mickey added trying to talk to him in a cajoling tone.

He saw the top of Ian’s head nod and he smiled softly to himself. He reached down again and tilted Ian’s chin up to place a gentle kiss on his lips.

“No Van Damme.” he muttered and Ian smiled slyly in return. 

He dropped his hand from his leg and he went to order them a pizza from the shitty joint a few streets over; they knew him well enough there and let him pay in weed, so he didn’t have to scourge the cash up. He ordered their usual - pepperoni and banana peppers - and headed into his room to throw the stolen library book under the bed before he went into the living room. He tried to ignore the loads of suitcases and clothes still feeling overwhelmed by the sheer volume of shit in the room. He made a mental note to start clearing some of the shit out before his brothers got back from their latest run or before Svetlana began fucking nagging him about it.

He swore all that woman did was fucking nag him... 

“Ian!” he called out because he didn’t see his ginger anywhere. 

He looked around the room feeling dizzy and then suddenly Ian was calling from Mandy’s room. 

He walked toward the room and then Ian appeared waving a DVD in his face. “I remembered that Mandy kept a lot of the movies in her room and figured we could watch something different tonight.”

Mickey nodded eyeing the title in his hand and then made a face. “Terminator? Really?”

Ian shrugged and gave him a lopsided smile that made Mickey’s stomach twist. He itched to reach forward to kiss him, but held back still feeling a little tentative about initiating intimacy with him.

Even though they were boyfriends and had been fucking for years, it still felt a little serial to touch him whenever he wanted.

He was a little jealous that Ian seemed to initiate it so carelessly, like he did the whole being gay thing, while Mickey still felt a lot of trepidation about it.

Reaching forward and giving him a kiss on the cheek before work was second nature to Ian.

Kissing at his work - albiet it was a gay club but still - and not feeling bothered about getting walked in on by his brothers didn’t phase Ian.

But it did for Mickey.

Ian seemed to sense his hesitation and reached forward to grab his neck and kiss him hard on the mouth. Mickey sucked at Ian’s bottom lip and grinned when he felt Ian open up to him immediately. He allowed his tongue to explore Ian’s mouth as if for the first time, even though he had gotten very used to kissing him over the last few months. He wrapped his arms around his neck and brought him closer, itching to feel Ian’s heat. 

Ian broke away with a little chuckle and rested his forehead against Mickey’s. “How about we pop this movie in and we make out? It’ll be like our last movie night.” he paused and Mickey felt himself deflate at the mention of that night.

Ian looked apologetic suddenly and loosened his grip around Mickey’s neck. He pushed back and looked into his eyes with a sadness that left his mouth dry and his eyes stinging.

“I don’t want to talk about it.” he said quickly, moving to step back and already itching for a cigarette.

Ian frowned, “I didn’t mean that. It’s--”

“Let’s watch the fucking movie, okay?” Mickey said nodding toward his room, “I don’t want to look at all these fucking suitcases, so let’s just watch it in my room, kay?” He went into the kitchen to grab a pack of cigarettes that seemed to perpetually live on the top of the fridge.

“Mick, come on. I’m sorry I brought it up. I didn’t mean it that way. I just...I worry about...I mean...we could just have a date night. That’s what I meant. I just want a date night with you.” Ian stuttered.

Mickey stuck a cigarette in his mouth as he listened to Ian trip over his words and then light the cancer stick and inhaled.

“It’s not a big deal, Gallagher. I know what you meant.”

“I’m sorry. It’s okay to feel--” He stopped himself and Mickey heard him take a deep breath. “I’m sorry.” he said again. 

He felt Ian right behind him and he turned around to face him with a defiant look on his face. Reaching forward and running a soft hand across his neck, Mickey gave him a tight smile.

“You don’t gotta worry about me, man. I’m fine. Let’s watch The Terminator kick some ass.” 

Ian gave him a guilty smile and nodded, “you know, if you ever want to talk about--”

“I know.”

“It was fucked up.”

“I know.”

“I-I just have a hard time...your dad is such an asshole.”

Mickey let out a harsh laugh and nodded, “let’s go, Prince Charming, I don’t want you to think my virtue won’t stay intact cause you brought up some fucked up shit. We all have fucked up shit, Firecrotch, I’m sure you don’t want to hear all about the shit I’ve been through.”

Ian opened his mouth to respond to that, but Mickey quickly cut him off with a rapid kiss to his lips. Whatever Ian had wanted to say, Mickey made sure the thoughts were never voiced as he buried his tongue in his mouth. 

Eventually, he pulled away and wrapped his arms around his waist to lead them toward the bedroom door. Mickey felt Ian press a kiss to the inside of his neck and he leaned into him loving the feel of his lips right there. It made the warmth flow through his body and remind him that Ian knew him better than anyone. He smiled loving the sudden softness of his redhead and melted into him.

Ian pushed him lightly toward the bed and then went over to the shitty TV that he’d or maybe it was Iggy stole recently. He settled on the bed against the headboard and then Ian came to lay beside him. He wrapped a light blanket around them and he curled up with his head on his shoulder.

“When’s the pizza getting here?” Ian asked, putting an arm around Mickey and pulling him impossibly closer.

“Hour. I have an eighth for them to trade for the pizza.” Mickey said, remembering he still had a light cigarette in his hand and hitting it before passing it to Ian.

He took it and said, “where the fuck did you get that?” 

“What?” Mickey asked looking away from the start of the credits to Ian in confusion. 

Ian was looking down at the floor and withdrew the arm around Mickey - which he was a little annoyed at - to pick up something on the floor.

“ _ Take Charge Of Bipolar Disorder _ ? What the fuck is this shit?” Ian asked holding the book up for Mickey to see.

He stared at the volume and then at Ian who looked astonished as if he had found out that Mickey was hoarding hetero porn. “Have Lip and Fiona been filing your fucking head with lies?” he asked, his voice tipping into anger.

Mickey stared at him as he tried to figure out what to say. Sure, he could go with the truth, but he wasn’t sure how Ian would react to that. They had just settled down for a ‘date night’ together and the last thing he wanted to do was fuck it up with being honest. He went over in his mind how he thought he’d tossed the book deeper under the bed, but apparently it hadn’t gone far enough. He wanted to fuck rewind time and make sure it was better hidden, but it was too late now and Ian was obviously waiting for a fucking answer.

“It’s a fucking book, man. Aren’t you the one telling me to read more?” he said, trying to make light of the situation. If he could make Ian laugh, maybe it wouldn’t be so bad. But at his response, Ian seemed to stiffen up and take a step back from the bed as if he wanted to put distance between them.

He frowned and tossed the book on the bed. It landed next to Mickey’s legs and he wanted to reach forward to pull Ian down with him and shake him back to the land of the sane, but then again they lived on the South Side of Chicago, how sane was it here, really? 

“I’m  _ not  _ fucking bipolar. How many fucking times do I have to tell you that?”

“Ian--”

“Why do you believe Lip - who you hate - over me? Or fucking Fiona, who you don’t fucking know? What have they been telling you? Why are you taking their side?” Ian said getting off the bed and glaring down at Mickey.

Mickey stared at him feeling his mouth fall agape. They had been laying in each other’s arms one minute earlier and now Ian was shouting at him about a book. He felt like his head was going to fall off from the sudden change in the atmosphere.

His mind went back to what he’d read on the internet and the words  _ sudden mood changes  _ floated through it. 

“Ian, I don’t believe anyone over you. I just wanted to see what that fucking bipolar stuff is.  _ You’re _ who I care about, who I fucking  _ love _ , Jesus fucking Christ, Gallagher, calm the fuck down. Fiona and Lip are just fucking worried about you, man.” Mickey said, trying to get Ian to listen to him and sit down with him. 

His hands itched to reach over and touch him, to get him to relax, but his hesitancy held him back from acting.

Ian blinked, looked down at the book, and then at Mickey. “You love me?”

Mickey copied Ian’s action and then played back his words. They had all come out in such a jumble that he hadn’t even realized what he’d said. His first thought was that it was easier to say it than he had thought it would be. And his second thought was ‘oh fuck, why hasn’t Ian said it back?’

“I mean...yeah, just don’t - don’t think I’ll fucking say it all the time, Gallagher. I’m not into that gay shit. I mean...I’m not telling people. This is just between us.” Mickey said defensively.

Ian smiled slightly and stared back down at the book as if it were a rabid animal. “Take it back to the library, Mick, there’s nothing wrong with me. Just...Lip and Fiona are wrong. I’m not my mom. I don’t have - I don’t have that.” he said softly. 

Mickey frowned feeling again like his head was spinning from the change in emotion in the room. He was struggling to keep up. He had gone from wanting to cuddle with his boyfriend, to trying to defuse the situation, and now he was wondering if Ian was going to erupt again before fucking Sarah Connor was even on the fucking screen.

“I just think if I knew more about--” he tried to reason.

“I love you too.” Ian said, cutting him off.

For a second, Mickey forgot how to breathe when Ian said those words. He felt the earth underneath him shift and then suddenly, he was grinning wider than he thought possible. He thought his lips were going to split from the intense smiling. His only thought was that Ian Gallagher, the only guy he’d ever really wanted reciprocated his love.

He’d said it back. 

Ian loved him back. 

For a second, all of the bipolar bullshit seemed to float away and the two of them were just two normal - obviously gay - guys admitting their love for each other for the first time. 

Mickey had kept track of a few of the first times between them - they’d been together on and off for years now it only made sense. 

There was the first time they had fucked, the first time they kissed, their first ‘date’, and now, he could tack on the first time they told each other they loved each other.

He took a minute to cherish this moment before he looked over at Ian who was staring at him as if he were going to run away any second.

He gestured for him to come forward, back on the bed, back beside him. Ian hesitantly got on the mattress and came to sit right down beside him - right back where he had been before - but he was still stiff and Mickey reached out to touch him to soften him up. It took a few seconds, but eventually Ian’s tense shoulders seemed to relax.

“Ian, I’m on your side. I choose you. I’ll always choose you.” Mickey said cupping his face in his hands and watched as Ian closed his eyes and melted back into him. The remaining tension seemed to slip from his shoulders and Mickey moved a hand up his neck to cup the back of his head. “I just need you to be honest with me.” he added.

Ian nodded slowly, his eyes closed and then leaned forward to kiss him on the lips. Mickey felt butterflies erupt in his stomach as their lips touched and there was a softness that was laced through the simple act of intimacy.   
Ian moved away slowly and looked directly into Mickey’s eyes as if he were searching for something and then pulled away slightly. He went back into his original position, pulling Mickey back toward him, and he settled back where he had been.

“I like this part.” Ian said as Kyle emerged from the future to set off on his quest for Sarah Connor.

“Yeah.” Mickey agreed, glancing at Ian to see where he was emotion wise and saw that he seemed to be settling down. He relaxed a little and focused on the TV to try to get into the movie. He finally felt like there was no danger ahead and they could just  _ be _ without any emotional dynamite blowing up in his face.

Despite the fact that Ian was riding a rollercoaster of fucked up emotions, Mickey couldn’t help but smile at the fact that they had finally said ‘I love you’ to each other. He wanted to ignore the fact that it may be slightly marred and tainted by the fact that this bipolar shit seemed to hang thickly in the air around them. He wondered how much longer he could keep Ian from trying to step off the edge.

As the movie continued and the atmosphere began to relax, Mickey pretended not to notice Ian kick the book off the bed and back under it as if it were a dirty sock.

He knew that it wouldn’t last much longer.

It really couldn’t.

He didn’t realize that things would get so much worse in the days to come after he found out Ian was cheating and he ran away with Yevgeny.

When Ian did the porno, he realized that he had stepped one foot off the ledge and when he ran out with Yevgeny, he knew he’d taken that final step off and was descending to a place Mickey wasn’t sure if he could still rescue him from.

* * *

“Ian, where are you, man?” Mickey asked leaving what felt like the millionth message on his phone.

It had been a whole day since Ian had taken Yevgeny and run off, but it felt like years. He’d started calling immediately and even left a message with the three littles words he had told him just days before not to get used to hearing and yet, he still hadn’t heard back from him. 

Svetlana was on his ass about getting the kid back.

The Gallagher siblings were annoying the shit out of him.

And the only person he wanted right now had left -  _ again _ .

He rubbed a hand across his face and began to rub his thumb over his lips, which was a nervous tick.

“I promise I won’t be upset when you get back. I just...I just need to know...Svetlana is hounding my ass and...I know you’ll take care of Yev, but...Jesus fucking Christ would you just fucking call me the fuck back.” Mickey stuttered trying to keep the anger and the frustration out of his voice, but it was hard when he felt like he was crawling out of his skin with worry and irritation. 

He stayed on the phone for a few minutes longer and then he hung up when there was a beep to signal that the message had ended without his consent.

He got up from the table and went to his room willing his phone to ring with news of Ian. If only he could just hear his voice and know he was okay...know the kid was okay, maybe then it could all be...maybe it would all be okay.

He sat down heavily on the bed and tried to distract himself by lighting a cigarette and drinking a lukewarm beer that had been sitting on the bedside table for longer than Mickey knew. He took a long sip and scrunched his nose up at the taste, but at least it was dulling his anxieties if only for a little while.

He looked down at his phone again and debated calling once more, but he wasn’t sure what good it would do. He slumped forward and rested his hands on his legs and smoked the cigarette until it was down to the filter and then he got up again and began to pace the length of his room.

His mind filled with a myriad of images of Ian stuck on the side of the road, sucking some guy’s dick for money, forgetting the kid somewhere. He thought about what Svetlana was going to do when she got back from pushing out another kid to find Yevgeny not here. He considered how Fiona - when she fucking reappeared - was going to tell him that she told him so. Or fucking Lip and all of his fucking superior than thou bullshit that he’d throw in Mickey’s face for not believing him.

For a brief moment, he wondered if maybe they could get out of this whole situation okay, if he could just keep a better eye on Ian and maybe...maybe... _ maybe… _

But he knew that he was at the end of his rope.

Cheating.

Yevgeny.

The fucking porno.

Mickey reluctantly admitted, at least to himself, that he had failed Ian. All he had wanted to do was keep him safe and yet, he did everything but. In fact, he probably put him in more danger because of the baby being around. If the cops found Ian, then he’d end up getting at least a year for child endangerment and then Mickey wasn’t sure what would happen. Ian was already cheating - fucking Gallagher - on him when they were both out; how would he fucking handle prison?

Mickey gulped down the can of beer in his hand and then tossed it in a corner of his room feeling too pent up and angry to care about where it landed. 

He fucking couldn’t believe that, that  _ asshole _ fucking cheated on him. And then had the audacity to tell him that he hadn’t used a rubber with a fucking stranger…

But Mickey  _ loved _ him, they’d said it to each other, he was pretty sure Svetlana overheard him saying it for the second time on the phone the other day and it was just...it was fucking  _ hard _ .

He  _ knew _ logically that Ian loved him too. He  _ knew _ that, but when he  _ cheated _ …even if it was a fucking porno to help them get money...Mickey wasn’t going to be able to forgive him that easily. He  _ knew _ that it was the disease. He knew that, but it was just...he had to hold onto the knowledge that  _ he knew Ian loved him _ , he’d said it, he’d  _ shown _ it more times that Mickey could count.

But still, it was fucking  _ hard _ .

Ian wasn’t supposed to be like this.

_ They _ weren’t supposed to be like this.

When Mickey had imagined the life they would live together, it didn’t included wives or babies or fucking bipolar disorder. 

It was  _ them _ and that was it.

And now, he wasn’t sure what the fuck he had signed up for.

He sat down heavily on the bed and then laid back with a dull thud. He stared up at the ceiling for a few minutes, before he stood up again, and looked around the room. He had the sudden urge to start organizing the space for when - for when Ian - well, he would come back  _ eventually _ . 

Even if he had to go away for awhile before he did. 

He began to pick up discarded shirts and dirty boxers. He saw a t-shirt of Ian’s half hidden under the bed and went to grab it, but with it, a book slid out. He stared at the book for a long minute before picking it up and staring at it as if it was going to bite him.

_ Take Charge Of Bipolar Disorder _ stared up at him. He had forgotten about the book after Ian had tossed it away; his brain too full of Ian’s declaration of love to process anything else. He remembered that he’d made a mental note to look back through it when Ian wasn’t around, but everything had happened so fast…

Maybe if he had taken the time to read it, he could’ve prevented the whole thing. He reached forward and began to flip through it. He read the first page and then the second and suddenly, he was halfway through the book and the sun was coming up once again to alert him that it was now the third day without Ian. 

But his brain was full of knowledge about how to help him. Things like finding the right medication mix, the difficulties of finding that mix, the importance of routine, what behavioral changes to look for, and how lifestyle changes can affect him. 

He went to go looking for a beer as he digested everything Ian - and him in turn - would have to do in the future. He felt suddenly nervous that things like this would become normal and Ian going to a psych ward - because by this point, it was probably inevitable - would become permanent things.

He gulped the beer down to steady his now frayed nerves as he thought about how this shitty disease was going to shape his and Ian’s future. 

He considered getting out now and saying fuck the whole thing, but...it was  _ Ian _ . He’d fought tooth and nail for their relationship.

He’d gotten shot -  _ twice _ !

He’d been beat up.

He’d beaten guys up.

There was no fucking way he was letting Ian go that easily.

But for a brief moment, he considered it.

And then the doorbell rang and the little brother - the white one - who was selling pot now was on his porch asking if he’d heard from Ian and he knew he’d never leave his redhead.

He was in it for the long haul.


	11. Diagnosis

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ian gets out of the psych ward. They come to terms with Ian being bipolar.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you! I really appreciate everyone who has read, commented, and kudoed this little fic! We are in the home stretch...sorta? There will be four chapters left, perhaps five, unless something changes as I write them out. I have really enjoyed writing this story so far, even if it's kinda sad (it's another bittersweet chapter). It's been a bright spot during this whole global pandemic situation. 
> 
> As we go forward, I think (and this could change as I begin to write the next chapter) I will not be writing the break up scene next chapter. I fucking hate that scene (obviously) and I don't want to dive into Mickey's world crashing around him. So the next chapter will be after the breakup and presumably while he's in jail. That's the plan as I write this author's note...but who knows. Anyway, if you liked the chapter, have feedback, or have a special request, then please comment!

“Ian, come on, man, wake up.” 

Ian blinked slowly as he came to. The bright light of the outside world made it difficult to focus on his surroundings, but the first thing he took note of was that Mickey was with him. 

His head was resting against Mickey’s warm shoulder and he tried to push away the grogginess, but it seems to have settled in his bones. Even with his eyes opened and focused on Mickey, he still felt pretty out of it. He resisted cozying back up to his boyfriend’s warm shoulder and instead, sat up slowly. As he maneuvered himself, he took in the situation and noticed they were in the back of a mysterious car. 

He began to look around feeling wary, but Mickey stopped him with a soft hand on his face.

“Do you know what happened?” he asked quietly.

Ian’s eyes settled on Mickey and suspicions began to arise at the uncharacteristic soft tone and concerned face he was making. However, he did as his boyfriend asked and tried to recall how they ended up here.

And then he remembered Yevgeny.

“Yev--”

“He’s fine. He’s with your sister - the redheaded one, Debbie.”

Ian nodded slowly trying to push away the residual grogginess. It seemed to linger in his bones and he was beginning to vaguely recall being drugged by a...policeman? “I...was I in jail?”

Mickey looked apologetic and caressed his skin with the hand that was still resting on his face. “Ian, you need...you - I can’t help you and you need...I think it would be best.” 

Ian frowned as he struggled to understand Mickey’s confusing words. He had never heard Mickey stutter the way he currently was. 

What was wrong with his boyfriend? 

Had he done something to upset him? 

Was Mickey okay? 

“What? What are you talking about?” 

He was surprised when Mickey leaned forward and gently kissed him. To Ian, it felt like he was trying to say something with his actions, but either he was too groggy to understand what he was trying to say or he just didn’t want to understand it because if he had to guess, it seemed like Mickey was saying ‘goodbye.’

He pulled away before Ian could respond, but he was struck by the fact that he had done it in the first place, especially when they were out in public and not at a gay bar.

For the shortest moment, he felt the fog lift a bit as reality began to sink in. 

His brain showed him flashes of Yev, the cops arresting him, the grocery store, and finally, Lip, Debbie, and Mickey getting him from jail somewhere in Indiana. He felt his stomach sink as he looked out the window and saw Debbie, Carl, and Lip standing a few feet away talking softly to each other. He looked away from them and toward the building that was surrounded with a fence. He vaguely remembered being here before for - for  _ Monica _ .

“What are we doing here?” he asked and hated how strangled his voice sounded.

“Ian, I love you, but I - I think this is somewhere you need to be, just for a few days. It’ll be for  _ just a few days _ .” Mickey said tilting his face back to face him. 

Ian looked deeply into Mickey’s eyes and saw the concern reflecting back at him. He saw the usual icy blue eyes portraying fear - a fear that rivaled anything he’d seen in his eyes when he spoke of Terry and that realization made him feel sick. With a jolt, he registered that all of that fear was reserved only for him. Mickey was afraid for him and he wasn’t sure how to take that.

“I don’t need -  _ I told you _ . I’m fine.” he said bringing his hands to rest on either side of Mickey’s face. 

He needed him to believe him. 

He needed to make sure that Mickey didn’t toss him away like everyone else always did. Even his family, who had been nagging him to get checked out for months now, even though he was  _ fine _ . “I told you I’m  _ not _ bipolar.” he said, desperately needing Mickey to believe him.

He had seen what happened when someone went in there; he’d seen it with Monica and he wasn’t going to end up like Monica.

But the only person who would believe him was in front of him and he could see in his eyes that he was losing him.

His stomach rolled with the realization.

He watched as Mickey blinked rapidly and he could clearly see the tears form in his eyes. “Then, for me, can you please - just go in there and make sure? Just get checked out or whatever and we can put this all behind us. I just - I need you to get help and I can’t - I’ve fa-I just--” he cut himself off as he took a deep breath and struggled to articulate what he needed Ian to hear. “Just go in there for me.” he said finally.

Ian felt his heart in his throat as he thought about having to go into that place - that scary place all by himself. He sat back against the backseat of the car and struggled to think of something to say to change his mind.

“Is this about the porno? Because I didn’t--”  
“It’s not about the porno.”

He paused and looked down at his lap where his hands were now resting. He watched his fists clench and unclench as he tried to remind himself that this was real - this wasn’t some shitty dream. “Is it...are you angry about Yevgeny?”

“No, Ian, it doesn’t - this is about... _ I’m worried about you _ . I just want you to get some help and I--I think this is the only way.” he said quietly.

Ian watched as Mickey reached out a hand to grip his own. Mickey tightened his grasp, but Ian didn’t return the affection. Instead, he sat in the back of the car for a few minutes staring at their hands as he considered what to do next.

He bit his bottom lip as he thought about what would happen when he went in there. He thought about his mother in there alone, the stories she told him when he was still young enough to think she was like God...it scared him. 

Being alone scared him.

“...please, Ian.” 

He came to as Mickey finished speaking and he hated the note of desperation that lingered when his boyfriend said his name. He wanted to look up at him and tell him everything was  _ fine _ and he didn’t need to do this, but he was afraid of seeing that fear in his eyes again.

He sighed heavily and pulled his hands away from Mickey. He felt like he was moving through water. “Fine. If you want me to prove that I’m okay, then...I’ll go in there. But, Mickey, you need to know - I didn’t mean...I love Yevgeny. I didn’t mean to hurt him.”

“I know, Ian--”

“And I didn’t mean to hurt you. I just thought...we needed the money and I - I love you.”

“I know, Ian.” Mickey said heavily.

Ian nodded and looked over to where Lip was now staring into the car at them. He considered telling Mickey that he was scared, that he didn’t think anything was wrong with him, that Mickey was wrong to believe his siblings, but the fight in him seemed to be diminishing more and more. 

Especially when he saw the resolve on his older brother’s face.

He remembered being forced to take the sedative and figured that this was part of their plan the entire time. Attack him when his guard was down and force him into that fucking scary place...well, fine, if that’s what his family - what Mickey wanted, then so be it. 

He’d prove that nothing was wrong with him.

They were just being paranoid.

There was nothing wrong with him.

He was fine.

Suddenly, he found himself getting out of the car and walked toward the front doors. He saw his family eye him as he neared the doors, but he ignored them, intent on walking into the institution and - and doing this. 

Alone.

He shouldn’t expect anything else anyway, he was always alone.

He heard Mickey call after him, but he ignored him. He knew that if he stopped walking, then he wouldn’t be able to continue. 

When he got to the front doors, he hesitated for a split second and resisted looking over at Mickey to make sure this was the right decision. He took a deep breath and pushed them open to reveal stark white walls and the smell of cleaning products.

He heard his family behind him as he approached the front desk and requested to be admitted for a mental health assessment.

He felt Lip’s hand on his shoulder and Mickey hovering behind him, but he tried to block them out as the nurse formed words that he was having a difficult time understanding.

Fiona was suddenly there and he was hugging her. For a moment, he felt as if his older sister could make this all go away; she’d take him home, make him some soup, and take care of him.

But he knew she was only here to make sure he went through with it.

In a haze, he filled out some paperwork and sat down, waiting for his name to be called.

The only thing he could focus on was that he was doing this to get his family and Mickey off his back. 

He hadn’t meant to take Yevgeny, he just got scared that Mickey was going to force him to do something he didn’t want to and it would be best to get out of the house for a little bit while his boyfriend cooled off.

He didn’t want to do the porno, but he knew that Mickey needed the money. He had done it for Mickey, to feed their family.

He didn’t understand why everyone was freaking out, he wasn’t crazy and he wasn’t dangerous.

He had made fucking logical decisions, it wasn’t the end of the world. 

As they waited, he stared down at his hands still feeling like he was wading through water. Rationally, he knew this whole situation wouldn’t amount to anything, but a small voice in the back of his head kept asking ‘what if’.

What if this was it?

What if he was bipolar?

What if Mickey left him?

What if his family treated him like Monica?

What if…?

As he stared down at his hands, he saw Mickey’s hand creep into his and he looked up to see his boyfriend giving him a strained smile.

He looked back down at their entwined hands and wondered - not for the first time - if this was the end between them. 

Because he knew no one - not even Mickey - would want to date a crazy motherfucker, like him.

He felt Mickey squeeze his hand again and he looked up to see those blue eyes he loved staring back at him in concern. He allowed himself to get lost in those eyes, wishing he could just sink into those pools of cerulean and float away.

And then he heard ‘Gallagher’ and knew it was time.

* * *

Looking back on his stay in the psych ward, Ian didn’t think he’d be able to recall what happened there. But he would be able to recall how he felt, which was numb and disoriented. He remembered watching the other inmates and how awful the food tasted, but if anyone pressed him for more details, he knew he wouldn’t be able to remember what happened to him while he was in there.

Years later, when Mickey once asked him what the psych ward was like while they laid in their prison bunk beds at night after a quickie (for awhile, in the dark, was the only way they were able to open up to each other again), it took him quite a while to answer it. Finally, he’d told his future husband that it was, ‘dark, depressing, and disorienting. I don’t really remember what happened, but I do remember being on a lot of drugs.’ 

And that was the best way he could describe it. 

It wasn’t that he didn’t want to bring up that time in their relationship and in his life, but because he genuinely had no idea what happened to him there.

He was sedated a lot and he could only remember small snippets of those 72 hours he was getting examined.

The one clear conversation he remembered having was with the therapist. He remembered disliking her immensely because she automatically assumed - just like everyone else - that he was fucked up. She had told him that he was Type I Bipolar and all he could think about was Monica. 

So he lashed out and denied what was happening.

Because it was easier than hearing the truth.

While a small part of him knew that what she was saying was correct, the other part of him wanted to deny the whole thing. Because he knew the end of the story when you had Type I Bipolar and it wasn’t a happy ending.

Instead, he’d do what he had to, to get out of the psych ward because he wanted to go home and back to Mickey. He figured he’d say what he needed to and take the pills they shoved down his throat. Because it was easy and that’s what everyone expected of him. But he had no intention of continuing with taking medication that made him feel like a slug wading through quicksand.

And he definitely didn’t believe what the therapist was saying. How could he when he felt fine when he wasn’t sedated?

Sure maybe he had a little more energy than he used to and perhaps sometimes he was more tired, but he was fine.

While in the psych ward, he did vaguely recall seeing Fiona and Mickey, but it seemed almost dream-like. Like, instead of it actually happening, it was all in his head.

Some days, he thought the entire situation was in his head.

And other days, he’d realized that maybe he was more similar to his mother than he really wanted to be. 

Most of the time, he thought that everyone was lying to him.

And occasionally, the days where he had taken his pills consecutively and on a regular basis, he’d realize that it was the truth.

He was bipolar.

It wasn’t going away.

It wasn’t a bad dream.

This was his new reality. 

But then that realization made him think about his mother’s relationships with people and he wondered if that’s also how he was going to end up. 

Was he doomed to repeat the mistakes of his parents?

Was he designed to be Monica and Mickey, Frank?

The idea sickened him.

And while he’d thought about breaking up with Mickey when he was at his most manic and figured the brunette would break up with him, eventually when he realized how fucked up he really was, that didn’t mean he wanted their relationship to end. 

How could he when he loved Mickey more than anything?

But he knew Mickey would leave him.

If not now, then sooner rather than later.

Why would someone volunteer to be with someone who was batshit when they could have anyone the way Mickey could?

Who wanted to be with someone who had as many problems as he did?

For those 72 hours that he spent in the psych ward, what he would remember was his diagnosis and his future with Mickey.

What he should do about Mickey, was a frequent question that floated in his head.

Because all he could think about was how the last thing he wanted to do to anyone, especially Mickey, was burden them with this disease.

After all, he knew the ending and it wasn’t pretty.

It included puddles of blood on the kitchen floor from botched suicide attempts and illicit drug deals with children on the playground who were later forgotten for a quick high. It created realities of unprotected pornos that broke lover’s hearts and stolen babies that ended in calls from jail cells. 

Most of all, Ian didn’t want to tie Mickey to him when he had just gotten free from his abusive homophobic father.

Ian didn’t want to be the one to hold him back.

He deserved better.

He was better.

And Ian knew Mickey wouldn’t want to be tethered to a crazy person, no one wanted that.

Besides, Mickey may think he loved Ian now, but Ian knew that he’d find someone else - someone who didn’t cheat on him or have bipolar disorder or who didn’t get him shot multiple times or beaten up...

Even though the thought of being without Mickey was agonizing; it was heartbreaking, and caused Ian to have near panic attacks. 

When he thought about it, he couldn’t breathe.

He knew eventually Mickey would leave him. 

Eventually, he’d get tired of his shit.

Time would show Mickey how much better off without him he’d be.

And every second Ian knew was one more closer to Mickey realizing that.

* * *

When he saw Lip and Fiona staring at him with earnest, sad, and worried expressions, he knew they had talked to the doctor. They wrapped their arms around him and held him tight without saying anything and then they headed toward the car Lip had taken from his current girlfriend.

They set off toward home, but Ian wasn’t really paying much attention to his surroundings or even really his siblings. He could always count on his siblings to talk about their own shit, so he sat in the back and listened as Fiona told him about her new husband.

And he listened as Lip talked to him about school.

But the one thing they weren’t mentioning was about his diagnosis. And they weren’t 

talking about what came next. 

Maybe he was okay with that, the morning dose of pills they gave him at the psych ward was still

pumping through his veins, so he could not give a shit, at least for a little while longer.

He stared at the seat beside him as Fiona told them about how Gus was some musician and a deep ache manifested itself in his stomach as he thought of Mickey. He had half expected him to be sitting in the seat beside him, having ventured the 45 minute car ride to Cook County Institute to see Ian.

Even though his new medication cocktail was doing a good job of numbing him to the realities of life. He felt the longing settle itself into his gut and flow through his body as his mind turned to Mickey.

For a moment, his head cleared just a bit as he wondered if he was going to see Mickey today. He had felt a dash of hope when the therapist had said that he could come in and he half expected to see Mickey waiting with Fiona and Lip.

He imagined his boyfriend would give him a smile like the one he’d worn during the dream-like visit that had taken an entire day for him to figure out if it had actually happened. Mickey would’ve dressed up a bit to come get him and they’d hug, maybe he’d weasel out a kiss if it was just Lip and Fiona...

But it was just his siblings and a sinking sensation began in his stomach - one filled with dread - and only sunk lower as they ventured through the streets of Chicago back to their house.

As they arrived home, he looked around to see if Mickey was there, having not had the opportunity to catch Lip and Fiona before they headed out, but instead, he was greeted by Debbie, Carl, Liam, and even Frank.

Although, he had a feeling Frank was only there by mistake.

He headed upstairs because he wanted to be alone on the pretense that his meds were making him tired, which they were, but he was tired of sleeping endlessly. And he had something he wanted to do before his next dose of pills were required and made him groggy and disoriented again.

It wasn’t until he was in his bedroom away from everyone else that he dared to take out his phone and hit ‘Mick.’ He waited and waited and waited for it to ring and as each shrill noise sounded in his ear, he felt himself lose faith with each passing second.

Mickey wasn’t picking up.

Did he not want to see Ian?

Was this his breaking point?

Was he still pissed about the porno?

Was he actually upset about Yevgeny?

Was Svetlana keeping him from him?

Did something happen?

His brain was flooded with questions, but he wasn’t getting any answers. He  _ knew _ his crazy shit was going to get to Mickey. He  _ knew _ Mickey wouldn’t be able to handle him once the diagnosis was confirmed. 

He’d seen it in his eyes months ago, that when the shit hit the fan, Mickey had reached his breaking point. 

Mickey not showing up after he had gotten out of the psych ward only proved his point. And he realized that with all of the fucked up shit he did, he couldn’t really blame Mickey anyway.

He didn’t deserve him even if he wasn’t crazy as shit.

He wouldn’t want to deal with him either.

He tried to sleep after he hung up the phone without leaving a message, but Mickey’s face plastered behind his eyelids and he wished desperately that he could tell him what he was feeling.

Without thinking about what he was doing, he whipped his phone out to call Mickey again. He waited with baited breath as it finished ringing and the voice recording told him to leave a message.

When the beep sounded, he began to talk. He didn’t think, just said exactly what was on his mind. Something that was generally much harder for him to do since neither of them were very keen on revealing their feelings.

“Mick - Mickey - I--” he paused as he gathered his thoughts. “I’m sorry. I - I fucked up. A lot. I’m out of - of the psych ward. I don’t blame you, if you, if you don’t want to see me. I did some pretty fucked up shit.” he swallowed thickly as images of the men he had been with floated through his brain. “If this is the end, then I just need you to know that I love you and I’m sorry - for - for hurting you...I - I love you so much and--” the phone cut his voicemail off before he could sum up the courage to explain about the other men, about the porno, about what was going on in his head, but a part of Ian was glad because he wanted to be the one to apologize to him face-to-face. 

If he ever got the chance.

For all he knew, Mickey was gone for good.

It was easier if he was, but the thought left a hollow feeling that rivaled the way his meds made him feel in the pit of his belly.

He lowered the phone away from his ear and tentatively put it down on the bedside table before he laid back down and pulled the thin blankets to his chest. 

For a long time, he stared at the ceiling, eventually and he wasn’t sure when, he fell asleep.

But even in his dreams, all he could focus on were those blue eyes he loved so much and that thick black hair that his fingers adored to mess up. He saw Mickey in his dreams, that special smile he only reserved for him on his plump lips. His cut off shirt revealing his pale muscular arms and his Fuck-U-Up knuckles grazing against Ian’s skin, leaving tingles of fire where their skin touched. His perfect face beamed at him and Ian tried to pull him closer, but every time he reached for him, he slipped further and further away.

When he woke up, he tried calling Mickey again. This time he didn’t leave a message - what was the point when this was the end with him? 

But that didn’t stop him from calling the rest of the day until darkness fell and Sammi came stomping into the house to accuse Carl of something he probably did, but they’d deny he was involved in anyway.

He didn’t stop texting him while they were on the way to the police precinct to get Carl.

And he couldn’t stop thinking of Mickey until he laid his head down on his pillow that night and attempted to sleep. 

His head was full of Mickey - he wondered if that would ever go away - and he told himself he’d go over there in the morning. If Mickey wanted to break up with him, then fine, but he was going to have to man up and break up with him face-to-face instead of be a pussy about it. 

He wasn’t going to make it easy though. 

He was going to kiss him, pull him close, and tell him he loved him. He’d demand Mickey to take him back, even if he knew the inevitable outcome of their story - which was nothing good, how could it be when they were South Side - but he wasn’t ready yet to live a life without Mickey.

He didn’t deserve him, but that didn’t mean he was letting him go. 

At least not now. 

He turned over in his bed and looked over at Liam who was sleeping soundly. He smiled at his youngest brother and wished that he could have the peace that was displayed across Liam’s face.

“Don’t grow up, Liam. It’s not fun.” Ian said softly. He though about lighting a cigarette, but didn’t feel like getting up and going downstairs to smoke it, especially since he didn’t want to run into fucking Sammi.

He watched the rise and fall of his little brother’s chest and when that didn’t work to lull him to sleep, he tried to read a book and eventually, he fell into a restless sleep. He heard the soft thud of the book hit the ground and he rolled over choosing to ignore it, but he was up again, even from the lightest sound. 

Turning the light off, would probably be the easiest way to fall back to sleep, but he was too lazy to get up. He closed his eyes and his mind went again to Mickey, but he tried to block those pouty lips and piercing blue eyes out of his mind. If Mickey was done with him, then he had to get used to--

He heard the door creak open and the soft sounds of footsteps behind him. He allowed his eyes to open as the familiar footsteps made his heartbeat quicken. He held his breath as he prepared himself to turn around and face the owner of the footsteps. 

He hoped he wasn’t wrong and it was Fiona coming to check on him, but he knew in his heart that those footsteps didn’t belong to Fiona - they were Mickey’s.

He had first begun to identify Mickey’s footsteps while they worked together and over the years, he’d learned when the brunette was approaching. Mickey thought he was a light walker, but his heels were heavy when they hit the floorboards. For short man, Mickey had relatively heavy footfalls and it was something - just another thing - Ian had come to love about him. He was a surprise - an enigma. 

Sometimes he didn’t even have to see Mickey to know he was there - he was just that intune to him.

So he knew in his heart that it was Mickey, but he wasn’t sure if he was here to be with him or tell him he was done. 

Logically, coming to the house at nearly 3 am probably was a sure tale sign that Mickey was here to be with him, but rationale wasn’t strong with Ian these days.

Slowly, he turned around to face the brunette and a part of him felt relieved to see the other boy. He knew he shouldn’t get his hopes up, he could just be here to tell him he was done or was just here for a booty call. But--

“Sorry I’m late.” Mickey said softly knowing to be quiet as to not wake up Liam.

Ian felt his body melt at those words.

And he wondered how he could think anything less of Mickey when he had finally come to him, even after blowing him off all day.

Ian felt his chest tighten as he thought about how good of a man Mickey was and how he didn’t deserve him. Not after the way he had hurt him with the fucking shit he’d done to him. He tried to push the guilt away and be happy with Mickey being here, with him. 

How could he have expected anything else from Mickey except comfort? 

He felt tears well up in his eyes and he automatically scooted over as the brunette began to take his jacket off and his shoes. He climbed into bed besides Ian and he closed his eyes as their foreheads rested against each other.

He wanted to say something, like ‘thank you’ or ‘I missed you’ or even ‘I love you.’ But Ian didn’t want to break the silence that engulfed them. Instead, he leaned into Mickey and he closed his eyes again as drowsiness started to infiltrate his body. He felt Mickey press a kiss to his forehead and warmth washed across him.

The tension lifted from his bones and for the first time since before he went into the psych ward or even before the incident with Yevgeny, he felt at peace. Resting against Mickey, he began to think that maybe things would be okay.

Maybe Mickey wouldn’t leave him to figure this shit out alone.

And maybe his diagnosis wasn’t the end of them.


	12. Prison

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mickey is in prison. Ian visits.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you everyone who commented, read, and kudoed the story! I know I say this everytime, but it's such a joy to read what you guys think and I really appreciate you guys checking out the story. I am sad that it's coming to an end, but there are still a few chapter left to enjoy. And if you like my writing, then check out some of my other stories.
> 
> This chapter was hard, I wanted to get it up last night, but I needed more time with it. I started the chapter and wrote 1600 words then hated the direction, so I rewrote it, which is why it took longer to upload. This was the first Mickey POV I struggled with because I was trying to connect how we go from breaking up at the end of s5 to Mickey mentioning Ian caming back in 6x01 when Ian visits, I know he was bribed, but obvs there were feelings left over. 
> 
> Anyway, I had trouble trying to come up with what Mickey was thinking and how he could brush off the breakup, then Ian blowing him off in prison, and then want to see him before Mexico. So this is my interpretation to try to link those parts. ANYWAY! Let me know if you guys like the chapter. This has manifested into such a beast...Enjoy and stay healthy and safe!

“Milkovich, let’s go.” 

Mickey looked up to see one of the guards - Dickson - wave him over with a baton. He put down the butcher knife and peeled off his gloves. He’d been cutting the almost-but-not-quite-rotten carrots for the ‘stew’ Tony was making the prison for dinner.

He edgily moved over to the guard and waited for him to unlock the kitchen door before stepping forward.

“You’re needed in the visitor’s room.” Dickson said pushing him forward to get him to start walking.

Mickey scowled, not liking the way Dickson was always sneering at him, but he ignored him - what else could he do? - as he walked forward and toward the only nice room in the joint.

He had been in the prison for almost a month now and he hadn’t had a visitor at all. His trial was quick - he was deemed guilty, not surprising - and while Iggy, Ian, and even Svetlana had been there consistently, none of them had visited.

He didn’t expect them too, especially not Ian. 

_ Ian Gallagher. _

A name he tried not to let himself think of now because, well, because Ian was an asshole. 

That wasn’t true. 

Well, it was kinda true.

He just...Mickey hated to admit it even to himself, but it hurt  _ a lot  _ when Ian broke up with him. And even though Ian had been diligent about making sure he was a part of the legal proceedings and spoke up for him, he still got fucking fifteen years.

And while he wasn’t completely wrecked over fifteen years - probably out in eight, anyway - he had struggled more with interacting and looking at Ian than he had when he was going through the trial in court. It was hard looking at the man he thought he’d be with for - for  _ awhile _ and then instead, he was tossed away like one of Yev’s dirty diapers.

It fucking sucked.

So it was kinda shocking when he traipsed into the little room and looked around for a familiar face to see Ian sitting in front of him looking as depressed and cold as he had the last time Mickey had gazed upon his face, which was in the courtroom as they dragged him back to prison to serve his time.

He hesitated for a split second before he plopped down into the seat and took the phone in his hand. He told himself that he could hang up on him and walk away if he wanted, but a small part - okay, a large one - was glad that Ian had shown up. 

His first thought was,  _ finally, Ian was here _ .

“What are you doing here?” Mickey asked inserting a hardness he reserved for shitty people into his tone.

Ian cleared his throat and tried to smile, but it fell flat on his lips and Mickey had to wonder if he was taking his meds. 

And then he reminded himself that he shouldn’t wonder about things like that when he wasn’t - when they weren’t -  _ he didn’t give a fuck _ .

“I came to see you.”

Mickey snorted and gripped the phone tighter. “Why? I figured when you broke up with me - that--” he swallowed thickly hating that he couldn’t even get over the term ‘broke up with.’ “What do you want?” He tried again.

Ian looked down at Mickey’s hand that rested on the small surface in front of him. The redhead’s fist clenched and unclenched and Mickey wondered if he was preparing himself to tell him something - it fucking seemed like it. 

For the briefest of moments, he thought that Ian was going to apologize and ask him if they could get back together.

And a small ballon of hope seemed to inflate itself in his chest.

Then he remembered fifteen years - eight -  _ whatever _ .

Gallagher wasn’t asking him jack-shit about that.

He was probably coming to tell him ‘goodbye’ forever.

Or some other dramatic bullshit.

“I wanted to see how you were doing. I came because...I mean, I know that day on my porch was shitt--”

“You think?”

“But I didn’t want this for you. I don’t - it’s hard - I’m sorry.” Ian choked out and for a small moment, Mickey felt a tightening in his stomach as he wondered if he was going to start crying.

He didn’t need any of these fuckers to see Ian start crying...it wouldn’t be good for Mickey. It would look too much like they had been...they were...well, it just wouldn’t be good. He was already struggling to keep his head down and out of the White Supremacist gangs in here.

When he got to the prison, he was automatically sought out because he was a Milkovich. At first, Mickey had resisted the gang initiations, but a tentative part of him knew that he would be in a better position if he just slid into one of them and became a sheep. 

He was a Milkovich and that name still got him somewhere.

And so far no one knew that he was gay - they’d all been in for much longer than a year, so they hadn’t heard the rumors - but that didn’t mean he was safe.

So instead, he tried to keep on friendly-ish terms and keep his head low and his ears perked to know who was coming into the prison and who to avoid. 

Part of him was almost waiting for someone to spread his secret all over, but another part knew that eventually, he’d have to do some things he didn’t want to - like join a gang, figure out where to get some drugs to barter, or stab someone to show power.

Prison wasn’t much different than juvie, the the rules still applied - avoid trouble, stay on top, and don’t become someone’s bitch.

“Don’t fucking cry, Gallagher.” Mickey said harshly into the phone.

Ian looked up at him from where he’d ducked his head and gave him a hard look. “I’m not - I’m not a fucking - I came here to fucking apologize.” 

“Apology accepted if it gets you out of here.” he snapped.

Ian’s face softened suddenly and Mickey hated how easily Ian was always able to see through him. He saw his hand resting near the glass separating them twitch and he wondered if Ian was going to reach up to touch the glass - like he had done the first time he’d come to visit him in juvie.

“Come on, Mick. I know what I did was shitty--”

“Yeah, it fucking was. You put me through - through fucking - it was a fucking shitty year, Gallagher, and you fucking break...after everything. Not to mention the fucking porno and who knows how many other dicks you sucked.” Mickey snarled into the phone trying to keep his voice low.

He didn’t want anyone else to overhear him and he glanced around quickly making sure no one was eavesdropping.

Ian looked down and he saw shame flash across his face. 

_ Good _ , he thought.

For a moment, he felt glad that Ian finally seemed to get how hurt he was, but then the blank glaze came back to his face and a feeling of defeat seemed to slide back over.

“I didn’t mean - I never wanted to hurt you, Mick.” Ian said softly and then he sighed, “I didn’t want this for you. It’s my fault--”

“Yeah, it fucking is. Again. Remind me, how many times have I been here because of you?” Mickey agreed angrily.

Ian was silent for awhile and then he reached his hand toward the glass at the very bottom of it, resting his fingertips on it. He looked directly into Mickey’s eyes and he couldn’t look away, even though he wanted to. 

Even though he should.

“You were all I ever wanted, you know. And I fucked it up. You don’t deserve this...but I don’t regret ending us. I was going to hold you back and--”

“Hold me back from what?”

“I didn’t - I don’t like the pills. I’m not taking them. I don’t want to take them.”

“Ian--”

“I can’t stand to see you here, like this and I just - I just - I love...” Ian struggled to say, but cut himself off while Mickey was hanging on by a thread.

Mickey smiled sardonically as Ian trailed off, unsurprised that the redhead couldn’t even say - tell -  _ couldn’t even choose him _ . 

He had always figured that Ian was the more open of the two of them, but staring at him struggling to even say how he felt, Mickey had to wonder if he was more in touch with the emotions he had for his ginger.

Firecrotch.

Ian wasn’t his anymore.

He looked at the clock on the wall. He didn’t read the time - it wasn’t his intention to - he just had to look away from Ian. That sad, blank look rested on his features and he seemed like he was floundering as much as Mickey seemed to be in prison.

“I guess we’re both fucked then. Listen, Gallagher, if you’re done with me, that’s fine. But don’t come here to make yourself feel better.” Mickey paused to gather himself for what he had to say next. “I would’ve done anything for you and you just - you fucking threw that way. I’m not dealing with your shit anymore and I don’t want to be your charity case. So go fuck up someone else’s life.” Mickey said and then he hung up the phone just as Ian began to talk.

He could see Ian’s face harden and for the first time since he’d come in an actual emotion crossed it. 

Anger.

And Mickey smirked down at him as he turned to walk away because he finally was able to break that sad shell that surrounded Ian Gallagher.

It just seemed like it was too late.

* * *

_ Dear Mick, _

_ I bet you’re surprised I contacted you again. I mean, I would be, I guess. Anyway, my  _ _ t ~~herapist psych~~ _ _ psychiatrist or whatever (the one who prescribes me shit) told me I should write a letter to you. She figured it would help. I wasn’t supposed to send it, but I guess I just wanted to. _

_ I’ve been thinking a lot about the last few years, us and just about what happened, everything that fucking happened. And I don’t want you to think that I don’t care about you because I do. I care about you a fuckton. It’s why I had to end it.  _ ~~_ It was _ ~~ _ I dreamed a lot about us, thought about us over the years, and I just have always wanted something better for you. _

_ You told me once that you were fucked for life and I don’t believe that. I’m fucked for life, you’re going to be, once you get out, I mean, you’re just really smart. _

_ You’re smart and strong, you’ll overcome this. _

_ Right now though  _ ~~_ I’m  _ ~~ _ there’s some shit going on with me and I guess I just think I need to figure it out alone.  _

_ It’s easier that way. _

_ Don’t want to drag you down or whatever. _

_ When I saw my mom, I was with her for a few days, you know, and she just got me thinking about shit in life. _

_ I don’t want to hold you back. _

_ I’ve never wanted to hold you back. _

_ I’ve only ever wanted you. _

_ Wanted to love you. _

_ And finally I did. _

_ But, um, it wasn’t perfect. I mean for awhile it was, but I have so many fucking issues, Mick.  _

~~_ I’m so  _ ~~ _ I’m fucked, my mental health, well, that’s fucked. _

~~_ I’m basically _ ~~ _ There’s just a lot going on. _

_ I don’t want you to resent me,  _ ~~_ because you deserve _ ~~ _ so I figured  _ ~~_ you were better off  _ ~~ _ things would be better off if we just took some time apart. _

_ I’m sorry for the situations I put you in and for  _ _ t ~~he other guys~~ _ _ the porno and the regulars  _ _ and ~~all the times I thought~~ _ _ I was fucked up. A lot. _

_ I didn’t know what I was doing. _

_ I don’t even remember half the things I did. _

_ That’s not an excuse though. _

_ But I  _ _ lo  _ _ didn’t mean to do it, if that’s worth anything. _

_ I didn’t think it meant much. _

_ I never meant to hurt you or Yev or even Svetlana. I just, shit’s fucked up and I hope one day we can I don’t know I’d like to see you again.  _

_ Not behind the glass or talking on a fucking phone. _

_ Just us, like things used to be because I miss you. A fuckton.  _

_ You probably don’t believe me. _

_ You probably hate me and I don’t blame you. _

_ I’d hate me too. _

_ Don’t feel obligated to write back. _

_ I _

~~_ Lo  _ ~~ _ See you soon, _

_ Ian _

* * *

After the first visit, Mickey didn’t think he’d hear from Ian again. But then he got a letter in the mail and that letter stuck with him.

During the day.

In his dreams.

It was there. 

It had taken an entire day of trying to ignore the letter - the one piece of communication he’d received in the four months he was here, beside Svetlana with her jobs and over the top seductress techniques - until he broke down. 

Ian’s first visit didn’t go so well, so Mickey didn’t really think he’d be hearing from again.

Instead he got this fucking letter, and Mickey didn’t know what to make of it. Did he write him back? Did he call him and tell him that he didn’t hate him? That he could never hate him. Sure, he had tried and wanted to, but it was.  _ Ian _

And Ian meant more to him than -  _ than anything _ .

He fucking loved him.

That shit wasn’t disappearing, it was obvious to Mickey that there’d always be  _ something  _ there.

He hadn’t seen him for months on end, those feelings still hadn’t gone away. Mickey had tried, he really did. 

He’d fucked other guys in prison. 

But none of those guys even came close to Ian. He knew in his heart that no one could or would replace Ian, he just wished that he felt the same way about Mickey.

Every morning, he’d lay awake until the buzzer sounded for breakfast and then he darted off needing something to distract him from the lingering thoughts of a man who didn’t think he was enough. 

Breakfast was at 6am everyday.

Then he headed to the kitchen where he helped out Tony, the cook. He didn’t understand why he was put on kitchen duty because he constantly handled knives and the only thing he could cook correctly were pizza rolls, but he learned some shit.

Mostly he learned the importance of seasonings, but also he learned how to make friends that weren’t his brothers or Ian.

Friends may be too strong of a word, but the kitchen was a mix of people from all walks of life through Chicago and Mickey felt like he was part of something kinda nice.

But then in his fifth month of being in there, Carlos was shivved by a rival gang member that had snuck into the kitchen, so they cut the staff down by two people and since he wasn’t the greatest cook he was sent to laundry. 

And the people in the kitchen slowly drifted and he hated that he felt hurt by that, especially because the first person he felt inclined to tell was Ian, but he couldn’t do that.

So now he was in laundry, and tried to keep to himself.

Except for the occasional tryst, he played dominoes, worked, ate, and that was about it. He read when he had nothing else to do and only -  _ only _ in the darkness of the dead of night did he stare at Ian’s letter and wish that it held  _ more  _ than it actually did.

“I didn’t think I’d see you again.” Mickey said, sitting down in front of the glass to face Ian.

This time Ian gave him a small smile that made his eyes light up just the smallest amount and Mickey took that as a positive sign.

The feeling of hope and glee that resided in his chest upon seeing Ian also probably helped. Even though he tried to push it down and away, but it bobbed back up like a buoy in the ocean.

“I’m not leaving you in here alone.” Ian said quietly.

Mickey snorted and rolled his eyes because his  _ ex _ -boyfriend was more or less telling

him that he’d take care of him and that was just ridiculous when  _ Ian had broken up with him _ .

That thought still stung.

“Why’d you send the letter?” Mickey asked.

Ian shrugged and pressed the phone closer to his ear. “Because I needed you to understand that us - the end of us didn’t have anything to do with you.”

“I know.”

“Do you?” Ian asked and gave him a hard look.

Mickey stared at him for as long as he could then looked away. He knew he’d been caught in his lie. He blamed Ian for their breakup, but probably on some level, it was his fault too. For not acting faster or fighting harder for their relationship or to change Ian’s mind about the meds or the diagnosis or whatever. Probably trying to kill Sammi wasn’t his greatest idea, but Ian could’ve done more for their relationship as well. For starters, he could’ve stopped shaking his ass and taking pube-covered dollar bills at that gay bar he worked at. 

“Maybe not.”

“Fiona and Lip are making me go to a therapist or whatever. I mean, I hate the meds, but the - talking I guess helps.”

“Good.” Mickey said gruffly.

“Yeah…” Ian said quietly.

They said in silence as they both avoided each other’s eyes.

“How’s prison?” Ian asked eventually.

Mickey snorted and gave him a look, “how do you fucking think, Army?”

Ian frowned, “I’m sorry.”

“You’ve said that.”

“You could use this time as a way to--”

“If you say get your GED, then I’ll cut your tongue out.”

Ian grinned suddenly and his hand twitched. Mickey wondered if he was going to touch the glass again, like he had before.

He almost wished he would. He missed the feel of those pale hands in his - he tried to push those thoughts away because he it...hurt to think about.

Still.

Even after months.

“I really do miss you.”

“You have a funny way of showing it.” Mickey grumbled his mind going back to the porch.

“I’m here, aren’t I?” Ian challenged.

Mickey shrugged begrudgingly.

“Yeah, but for how long? Till you find some twink at the club?” Mickey challenged.

Ian looked as if Mickey had cut him and he tried to ignore the flash of hurt that sliced through him.

“I haven’t - I haven’t been with anyone, not since you. I don’t - I don’t want anyone...I need to work on me before I…I don’t work there anymore.” Ian stuttered.

Mickey rolled his eyes and tried to ignore the bullshit he figured Ian was throwing him to make him feel better for being locked away.

“Have you - uh - have you been with any - have you made friends?” Ian asked quietly.

When Mickey looked at him, he saw that he was staring down at his hands, steadily not looking at him.

“Yeah, I fucking have.” Mickey snipped before he could bite his tongue.

He saw Ian pale slightly and then nod. “I mean, that makes...sense.” 

There was a long pause where Mickey debated if he should try to take back what he said. Against his better judgement he added, “I don’t hate you, Ian. I...it’s just difficult. I thought we were the real deal.”

“We were! We are!” Ian said quickly.

But Mickey ignored the increase of his heartbeat and told himself that Ian was lying. 

“Then why didn’t you have more faith in us?” Mickey countered against his better judgment.

Ian looked down and Mickey felt his thumb find the skin above his lip and began his nervous twitch.

“It’s not us that I lost faith in...it’s me.” Ian said. “There are so many fucking versions of me, Mick, how do I know which one is...how do I know which one you love?” he finished after a long pause. He sounded choked up when he said it and Mickey watched as the tears prickle in his eyes, but they didn’t fall.

This time, he didn’t care if he cried.

But he did care that he couldn’t comfort him if he did.

“I’m fucking crazy, Mick. You don’t want to deal with that.” Ian added when he seemed to control himself.

He was steadily staring at the bottom of the glass and Mickey watched him carefully.

“Don’t tell me what I can and can’t deal with, Gallagher.” Mickey responded.

Ian smiled slightly and this time he reached his hand up and placed it along the glass, higher up than last time and Mickey itched to reach forward and put his where Ian’s rested. But he didn’t want to get his hopes up when - when he was in here for eight fucking years, at least.

“If I started taking my meds...would you wait? You know, for us to get back together.”

Mickey chewed on the inside of his lip as he considered Ian’s question. “I don’t want you to take the meds for  _ me _ , Ian, I want you to take them for  _ you _ . I just...I just was trying to help. Your...situation isn’t about me, it’s about you and how you deal with it. You wanted me out, you made that pretty fucking clear”

Ian gave him a searching look and he seemed to be satisfied with what he found there. “Will you wait until I get better?”

“I have nowhere else to go.”

“But if you were out?” Ian pressed.

Mickey sighed and took the phone away from his ear as he pressed a thumb to the bridge of his nose and then pressed the phone back to its place. “If I was out, we wouldn’t be here.”

“But--”

“I don’t know what you want from me, man. Why do you keep visiting me? What are you expecting to find? You already know I fucking care about you, that I don’t hate you. What do you expect me to say?” Mickey snapped.

Ian was silent for a few minutes and then said, “I’m here because I fucking care. Because I fucking love--.”

The buzzer sounded to signify that it was time up and Mickey felt a sinking in his stomach when he thought the ‘you’ was drowned out. He knew it was time to leave and he should wrap his conversation up.

“Time’s up.” A guard yelled and the shuffling began.

“Still?” Mickey asked staring deep into Ian’s eyes and needing to see something to

reassure him there. His heart was beating in his chest, so loudly it seemed to be pounding in his ears. But Ian had a guarded look in his eyes, and Mickey - logically knew - but emotionally had no idea if Ian really still loved him. But that didn’t stop the bubble of hope from blossoming  _ again _ , always again with fucking Gallagher.

Ian seemed almost sheepish as he began to speak, “I--”

“Time’s up, Milkovich, come on.” One of the CO’s reached for Mickey’s arm, and

grabbed him before he could hear Ian’s answer. He saw Ian stand up and move as if to follow him, but the CO pulled him into the security room to be checked over before heading back to his block.

He cast a look over his shoulder to see Ian watching him with a distraught look and then the door closed behind him and he couldn’t see him at all.

“Sorry to break up the moment.” the CO - Johnson - snapped with a smirk and pushed him into line behind another inmate who gave him a nod.

“Fucking dick.” the guy muttered.

“Yeah.” Mickey added and looked over his shoulder again, but he didn’t see Ian.

The rest of the day he felt distracted with thoughts of Ian spinning in his mind. A few days later he found a semi-clean needle and the words ‘Ian Gallagher’ popped in his head and the image of a tattoo burned its way into his brain.

And before he knew it, he was sticking and poking a tattoo over his heart because the next time Ian came to visit, he’d show him how much he loved him right back. Even though they were broken up, Mickey knew they were going to get back together.

Someday.

It might not be now or a year from now, but Mickey knew that Ian was meant for him. 

He’d known it for years, he was just too afraid to acknowledge it.

And Ian coming to visit and the letter - well, it just proved that.

* * *

The next time he saw Ian, he seemed to have done a 180. He was withdrawn as if he didn’t want to be there and the more he sat in the background as Svetlana went on about blinding people the more he wondered why he’d come in the first place. It was almost three months later since the last time he’d seen him.

There were no more letters.

Not even a call.

Seven months into his sentence Ian  _ was bribed  _ by Svetlana to come with them and it didn’t make sense to him. He had told him he loved him last time and now, well now he seemed to be acting just like someone who had broken up with him.

Mickey didn’t know what to think, but as they sat there and chatted - or really Mickey drove the conversation - he began to wonder if Ian seemed to be done with him.

Even if Mickey wasn’t done with him.

Well, he knew he was  _ supposed _ to be done with him. 

But that wasn’t so easy.

He felt inclined to tell him things.

Like showing off his tattoo or about the kitchen situation that happened. He had wanted to tell Ian about it first, but obviously that was off the table.

He figured Ian was already off fucking some other guy, anyway. 

It’s what he would’ve done if Ian had told him he was fucking other guys.

The thing was, as much as Mickey tried to block him out, spending so much time in jail was taking its toll on the nights he couldn’t fall asleep, his mind drifted to Ian and what he was doing.

A constant rotation of:  _ I’ll wait for you a _ nd  _ fifteen fucking years _ rotated in his head on repeat during those times.

That was a constant reminder to stay away from him, but Mickey knew Ian wasn’t really going to wait for him. 

Like Ian knew Mickey wasn’t going to back down about taking his meds.

He barely met Mickey’s eyes, but he sat there and spoke to him until time was up.

Mickey had kept up a slow stream of meaningless conversation while Ian nodded along and played with the phone cord. He could tell that Ian wasn’t fully listening, but he also noticed that seemed withdrawn and depressed.

Not his usual upbeatness, at least not compared to the second time he was in there. Ian these days was very far from his old self, but Mickey craved to see a smile on his face - even a small one.

At least the last time he got a smile.

He was a little annoyed that Svetlana had come along this time, but from Ian’s callous comment about her paying him to come, well he felt a little more glad. She’d been his more frequent caller only to tell him about another hit in the jail.

He had wanted to see him alone since they’d have more time together, but Svetlana had spent most of the time talking and Ian sat there playing with Yev and barely looking at him.

Every time Ian came to visit, it took him longer than he’d admit to stop reeling from Ian’s visit. 

The last visit seemed to send him over the edge.

He couldn’t believe he’d asked Ian to wait, when he knew eight years was a long time.

But he wanted something to look forward to and if he thought about Ian and a possible life together, maybe he wouldn’t give up.

Maybe he’d keep going.

_ I’ll wait for you _ . 

It sounded like more of a lie than ever and his distaste for the redhead ebbed and flowed.

But then Ian didn’t come back after that last visit with Svetlana.

And when he got up the courage to ask her about it three months after the last visit, he hated the look of sorrow that passed over her face.

And he knew that Ian wasn’t going to wait.

For awhile, he walked through the prison - his new life - in a daze and then he began to fuck other inmates to make himself feel better, but there was a hole in his chest that wasn’t going away.

Mickey didn’t want to think of Ian anymore. He had no desire to feel like focusing on a man who never thought he was worth waiting for, one who didn’t think he was enough.

* * *

After another restless night, he awoke to the light snorting of his cellmate, a little Mexican guy who spelled like BO. The cellblock was still dark as he struggled to rid his mind of the images that had plagued his mind.

Another dream about Gallagher.

For a split second, he allowed himself to think of Ian Gallagher before he pushed the red haired, pale, alien-looking fucker away and reminded himself that he wanted nothing to do with him.

They were over.

He was in prison.

And Ian wasn’t going to wait for him.

He made that perfectly fucking clear when he’d come to visit with Svet.

And yet, he still didn’t believe that this was the end for them.

His hand found the slightly less infected tattoo over his heart and wished that he could get rid of it, but like Ian, the idea hurt.

He was such a fucking pussy.

He hated that he couldn’t bring himself to regret it.

He laid back down in his bed and stared up at the top bunk willing sleep to take over, but the low snores combined with the hammering of his heart was not the lullaby he needed to find rest.

He took out the letter that he hid in between the pages of a book and read it through for what felt like the 100th time. As he took in Ian’s scribble, he considered their future together. That had been, to some degree, what was keeping him going on here, but knowing that Ian was done with him meant that, that dream should be let go.

He needed to start thinking of a life beyond Ian. It was time he began to plan a final escape to somewhere he couldn’t be found.

Eight more years of being here would fucking kill him.

He may be a Milkovich, but he was meant to be free, he’d realized that after coming out.

The idea felt like led in his chest and he knew that he needed to start planing something big. He needed to let Ian go and begin to think of a better life, one where he was somewhere warm and beautiful, where he was chosen. 

He needed to get out.

Because he knew that he was never meant to be caged. 

If before that happened he saw Ian one last time, than so be it. It would just be for one last minute to see him bright in the sunlight, with his green eyes laser focused and a smile on his lips directed at him.


	13. Escape

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mickey escapes from prison. Ian finds him again. Set late season 7.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading, commenting and liking the story! We're in the home stretch now. There should only be 2 or 3 more chapters to go and then this story will be finished. I hope you guys like the next chapter. Leave a comment if you'd like! Thanks again!

_ Ian, get over it. _

_ Ian, get over it. _

_ Ian, get over it. _

_ Ian, get over it. _

Every time Ian thought about what Trevor said to him about Monica his blood pressure seemed to spike a little more. The hill of anger he was riding on seemed to peak at the top, descend just a smidge when rational thought tried to intrude, and then spiked again.

How fucking dare Trevor say that to him when he didn’t even know - he didn’t even  _ know _ half of what Monica had done…

After having a beer with his siblings, he went upstairs to try to cool down, but it was difficult to do when all he could hear was Trevor saying that to him.

And then, as it always did, he began to compare him to Caleb and more notably Mickey.

He knew it wasn’t fair to do to him, he  _ knew _ that. 

_ You should never compare a past boyfriend to a present one _ , but the small voice in his head reminded him that Mickey would never have said that to him.

No, Mickey would’ve fucking  _ got it _ .

He would’ve stood up to Monica with him,  _ he would’ve fucking cared _ .

For a brief moment, as he sat in his lonely little room with thoughts of the night swirling in his head, he considered what Mickey would’ve done if he’d been the one to come with him to see Monica.

First, he had to wonder if he would’ve come with him at all knowing what he did about Monica.

While Mickey hadn’t been there since the beginning - only his siblings would truly get it - he was there when things were bad. He’d opened up about Monica on a few occasions when he was trying to get Mickey to talk about his dad. 

And it worked, then at least.

But he knew, no matter how much Mickey didn’t want to be around Monica, if Ian had asked him, he would’ve come.

Because that was the thing about his Southside thug, even when he was angry at him and wanted nothing to do with him, Mickey still was there for him.

And he really couldn’t say the same thing about other people that he’d been with.

A deep unsettled feeling sat in his stomach at that thought. Not for the first time, he wondered how wrong it would be to visit Mickey in prison when he had someone else in his life.

The thing was everytime Monica reappeared, he craved some sort of stability - he had that time when he was 15 and had run to Mickey, the time when she’d tried to kill herself and he’d visited Mickey in jail as soon as he could, and he’d run back to Mickey after she’d bailed him out of court martial jail. 

It was  _ always Mickey _ he ran to and he knew as he thought about the progress of the night that the only person he wanted to comfort him - who fucking  _ got _ it was his Southside thug.

Unfortunately, he hadn’t seen him in over a year and he highly doubted he wanted to see him now when Ian wanted to make himself feel better.

The thought created a heaviness in his heart and he got up and lunged into his closest to dig around for a shirt Mickey had left at his house long ago that he sometimes - guilty - snuggled with.

Trevor wasn’t coming over and it wasn’t like anyone would catch him, so what could it hurt?

As he dug around his closest, he came across a small box he’d hidden in there long ago. He smiled slightly at the sight of it. After that last prison visit, Ian had vowed that he’d stay away from Mickey. It was time to start living again and he needed to do that  _ without _ Mickey. He didn’t want to be with someone who was trying to change him, at that time.

Looking back, he knew he was being an idiot.

It was easier to leave Mickey behind because he was in prison, not because Ian wanted to. 

If Mickey had been out, Ian knew he’d have gotten back together with him when everything in his head settled down. It happened every time Mickey was in juvie and when he got out, Ian crawled back like the sad piece of shit he felt he was.

But the thing was, as long as he had Mickey, he didn’t really care what happened or how desperate he seemed.

But hearing  _ eight years _ , he knew that he had to go and live his life - forget about Mickey (for now). Being with other guys only solidified how much he missed the brunette though, but like the box he’d just found in his closet, he’d attempted to stomp down all of those feelings he had for his Southside thug.

It was easier to lock them inside a place, deep and dark to forget about.

Until moments when missing him became too much.

In the box, he’d placed all of the items he associated with Mickey - his brand of cigs, a stolen lighter, a hastily written note, and one of the B vitamin bottles he’d bought for him when he was low. There was a mix CD he’d made Mickey way back in high school - God, they were old - that he’d never gotten up the courage to give him. And then there was an empty pack of Pringles Mickey loved that he’d emptied at his house one day and had left behind. Ian knew it was probably border lining on weird, but those things made him think of Mickey.

So for the night, he cuddled into Mickey’s shirt - one of those flannel ones he loved so much and breathed in the long forgotten smell of a person who genuinely cared about him.

And for sometime before sleep overtook him, he thought about how fucking stupid he was to have let him go.

* * *

“Ian Gallagher?” 

Ian looked at the man standing in front of the house. He was almost hesitant to admit who he was, but when he looked down at Fiona’s curious eyes, he didn’t think it was anyone he should be afraid of.

“Yeah?”

“According to Corrections Records, you visited Mikhailo Alesander Milkovich in prison on multiple occasions?”

Ian felt his stomach drop as every possible bad scenario he could think of about Mickey raced through his head. He felt Trevor’s eyes on him, but he was too focused on the detective to pay attention to anything else.

He needed the detective to spit out whatever it was he had to tell him about Mickey because he - he felt like all of the air had left his lungs and his head was light as he thought about his Southside thug being shivved in the shower. 

In a haze of worry, before he could stop himself, he blurted out, “Mickey?” 

He almost began to ask what was wrong with him; had someone done something to him? But the detective began to speak again before he could struggle to get the words out.

“Has he contacted you?”

Ian felt suddenly like he was having an out of body experience. Just the night before, he’d been thinking of him and now this. What was wrong? What had happened? 

His mind flashed back to Monica and how everytime she was around he’d always run to Mickey...was this the universe doing  _ whatever it did  _ to ease that open wound she had left? 

He heard himself say, “no.” But it sounded far off and even if Mickey  _ had _ contacted him, he wouldn’t have said anything.

He’d never snitch.

He may have left Mickey when he needed him most - and he thought about that often - but he wouldn’t tell a cop where he was.

“He escaped last night.”

Ian felt his stomach drop and his mouth went dry. 

_ Mickey was out? _

A part of him knew that if he hadn't contacted him yet, it was only a matter of time before he did.

The cop asked him a few more questions about how he knew him - work, Ian abbreviated - do you know where he would have gone? - no - and then the detective was gone. 

Ian watched him go and tried to ignore the drumbeat that was going on in his heart. He tried to ignore the dryness of his mouth. But most of all, he tried to keep his face relatively blank as he tried to process the fact that Mickey had broken out of prison.

_ What the fuck? _

He didn’t dare look at Trevor, too afraid of the sea of emotions that were rolling around in his eyes. He may think he was putting off a calmness, but he could feel his hands shaking as the sound of Mickey’s name spoken out loud seemed to have shifted something inside him. It was like someone else saying his name made a dam break of emotions and shit that he - that he wasn’t sure how to deal with.

“That’s - that’s a lot. Fuck.” He heard Trevor say.

Ian hated himself for wishing Trevor would leave, but he really wanted him too; he just needed to think about what this could mean -  _ Mickey being out of prison _ . 

A part of him - a wild part that had laid dormant for awhile - considered going to look for him. But he didn’t even know if Mickey had stayed in Chicago.

He looked over at Lip and Fiona who were watching him carefully and then Ian turned around to go back inside. He didn’t know what emotions were playing across his face, but by Fiona’s worried look, he knew that it probably wouldn’t be great to have his boyfriend see how he was reacting to the news about his ex.

Inside, he felt like his heart was going to fall out of his chest from beating so fast. His stomach had dropped to his toes and he felt almost dizzy from the news. It was hard to tamper down on one emotion too with so many questions whizzing through his head.

He felt as if he were watching himself from afar go through the motions of the rest of the night. The atmosphere seemed to crackle around him and he felt more energized than he had in ages. 

He itched to check his phone to see if Mickey had texted or called - but he knew that he would’t be that stupid to contact him without any--

But then a dark thought crossed his mind.

_ What if Mickey didn’t contact him at all? _

_ What if Mickey had escaped and run away to God knows where? _

_ Did he even want to see Ian again? _

_ What if Mickey had just taken off? _

_ Did he even still feel the same way about them - about him? _

He tried to put himself in Mickey’s shoes and think about what he wanted, but he honestly didn’t know. It had been such a long time since they had been together that Ian wasn’t sure how much he’d changed.

Ian had been pretty shitty while he was in jail, he’d been very low - depressed during that time. He hated what was going on and it was  _ hard  _ to see Mickey in there. He’d told Mandy the last time that he saw her that he missed him and he did. 

A lot.

It was like walking around missing his heart.

Which was stupid and a cliche, but it was the truth.

In the beginning, it had been bad.

Simple things seemed to be more hard knowing Mickey was locked in prison while he was just trying to live day-to-day.

He thought of Mickey all the time. 

It felt like an anvil sitting on his chest all of the time in those months after he had gone to prison. He was already depressed because of his disease, but without Mickey...he’d hated himself.

A lot.

When he finally started to feel like himself, the hatred didn’t abate. 

For a while, before he met Caleb and even in the beginning of that relationship, Ian had thought of Mickey all the time. He knew he shouldn’t. But it was difficult not to. It got to the point where he figured if he told himself that Mickey was ‘psycho’ or ‘abusive’ that it would be easier to forget him, but it wasn’t.

In fact, he hated himself more for thinking of Mickey like that.

Often, he’d wonder what Mickey would say about his life (you taking your meds, bitch?), about becoming an EMT (Wow, going all official, man, that’s...impressive), about even Caleb (You’re dating him? He seems like a little fake ass bitch).

Even when he was trying to push thoughts of him away, they lurked beneath the surface and emerged at inopportune times.

Like when Ian was in the shower.

Or in the middle of sex with Caleb or later on Trevor.

He thought about him when he made breakfast - always when eating poptarts.

Or the time Fiona had made pizza rolls for dinner because they didn’t have anything else.

Then there were the times when he passed places they always hung out - like abandoned buildings and the dugouts. Whenever he was around bleachers, he thought of him or even at The Alibi images of Mickey coming out snuck into his mind.

When he’d found that flannel shirt in the way back of his closest, he’d cried harder and longer than he’d ever admit.

Which was why he’d made the Mickey box in the first place.

He needed a place to put all of the  _ shit  _ that reminded him of Mickey and physically and metaphorically lock away those emotions and items and whatever else made his heart ache at the thought of his Southside badass.

And it had taken a while to realize that Mickey in prison, wasn’t going to be like Mickey in juvie. It was going to be a long time.

It was eight fucking years.

That reality sunk in like a body in quicksand and etched itself inside of his brain as a reminder that he needed to move on.

He had waited for Mickey in the past, the first and second time he’d gone to juvie and while he had been with other guys later on, he always knew he was coming back.

Now, there were eight years between them and Ian knew he had to try to move on.

He did consider waiting for him this time around too, but Ian was selfish and he didn’t want to waste all of his 20s waiting for a guy who - who may not want him. As much shit as Mickey carried with him, Ian carried the same amount.

And while Ian could deal with Mickey’s traumatic shit, he didn’t want to make him deal with all the bipolar shit. Especially after he watched him during his diagnosis. 

With Caleb and Trevor, they never saw how bad it could get and Ian vowed it would never get that bad again. And if he was being honest, with the two of them, he never really saw a long-term future. 

Unlike Mickey, he never dreamed of - of taking that step toward the altar with the two of them. He was just with them because it was  _ easy  _ and for a little while they distracted him. 

Besides, neither of them ever made him feel the way Mickey had...which was a constant reminder to him when he even considered what a future with them could look like.

A tiny voice always reminded him that they didn’t ignite a fire in his belly when they touched him or make his head spin with just a kiss. His heart never beat rapidly or warmed with a smile from them…

It really was the little things that told him the truth.

During those few weeks with Caleb, he didn’t think of Mickey as much, but it all came rushing back when he was dealt his karma.

And he hated himself again when Caleb cheated on him. He wasn’t even really upset about Caleb cheating on him - with a girl no less - he was upset about how Mickey probably fucking  _ felt _ after he realized Ian had cheated on him.

He felt guilty.

He felt gross.

But most of all, he wanted to reach out and apologize to Mickey about everything. He had even gone all the way to the prison, but when he got into the parking lot, he had begun to reconsider going inside. 

He knew Mickey was, well,  _ Mickey _ .

And telling him while he was in prison wouldn’t exactly amount to much, except probably a fuming and hurt Mickey. In fact, it may even add to the fucked up situation.

Frankly, Ian was tired of hurting him. He hated seeing his badass look at him with such an expression of helplessness. He hated seeing him through that glass without being able to touch him. And he hated knowing that he was the one who got him thrown back in a place he hated so much. 

Because Sammi had been  _ his sister  _ and he had been the one to open his mouth and trust her...

So Ian got the bus out of there and tucked that moment away - until he had the chance to tell Mickey when things were good with them.

If things would be good with them.

The thing was he didn’t really think that seeing him in the prison was the last time. He had a feeling he’d see him again. He just hadn’t figured it would be in almost two years, he was thinking more like  _ eight _ .

Sometimes, he’d dream of walking down the street in his neighborhood and running into Mickey, fresh out of prison, with a smirk on his lips and a twinkle in his eye and they’d head into an alleyway and let their bodies say the words their mouths never could.

That night, Ian slept fitfully and he kept switching back and forth between whether Mickey would or wouldn’t contact him. 

On the one hand, Ian had fucked up. And he wouldn’t blame him if Mickey was for real done with him. 

But...but...but...There was always a  _ but _ .

On the other hand, Ian  _ knew  _ Mickey. Just like he knew he was in love with him before he got married and when he knew he wouldn’t get punched in the face when he kissed him. 

He wouldn’t stay away.

And Ian didn’t want him to.

He had considered fighting it at first. For the briefest of moments, he allowed himself to consider what would happen if he didn’t come if Mickey called -  _ would he call though _ ?

But the devastation of the idea of him not calling, nixed that argument and he knew there was no use in fighting it.

There was no use in even trying to fight it. 

Ian knew how this would end anyway.

Because if there was one thing that he knew was that he loved him and he couldn’t really - feelings like theirs didn’t go away so easily.

No one ever really got that.

While he knew he’d see him, Ian wasn’t ready for the punch to the gut that occured when he actually laid eyes on Mickey.

Metaphorically, of course.

The air had been knocked from his lungs as he stared at his beautiful face without glass separating them.

Standing there, in the dark shadows under the bleachers, Ian almost felt as if he was glued to the sandy ground. The anger inside him, that moments ago threatened to come to the surface, had dissipated. 

The fear he’d felt when he was grabbed had melted away.

All that was left was Mickey.

_ His Mickey _ .

Standing under the bleachers as if he’d been waiting for him there all along.

As if he’d been waiting there for years, for Ian to finally come to his senses and come after him.

Time seemed to slow down as their eyes met and even with longer hair and that stupid beanie on his head, Ian knew that  _ this was it.  _

And he was a fool to think any differently.

If there was any lingering doubt about his feelings toward Mickey Milkovich, seeing him again dissolved anything that may have made him wonder if he even still loved the brunette.

All of those feelings he’d shoved inside a box in his chest slipped from the cracks and engulfed his heart in a warmth he hadn’t experienced in - in longer than he even could imagine.

He was foolish to think that any other guy would ever hold a candle to Mickey and that realization settled itself deep into the recesses of his body as a reminder that he could never replace the brunette.

No matter how much he tried.

And he had pretty diligently.

A deep-seeded ache settled inside his chest at how long it had been since he’d seen him and a sadness lingered in his bones as he thought of the last thing he’d said to him.

The blatant lie that he’d told him.

And yet, Mickey had still wanted to see him anyway.

He could’ve left town, never to be heard of again, but he’d wanted to see Ian.

_ He’d wanted to see Ian. _

That had to mean something.

If his heart felt like it was going to hammer itself from his chest, then Mickey’s had to as well.

He watched as Mickey tilted his head in an invitation to tease him closer and without even realizing he was moving, Ian began to walk toward him, drawn into the shadows of a world he thought he’d put behind him for good.

* * *

Standing closer to Mickey, Ian wasn’t sure if he wanted to kiss him or punch him for what he’d just done to him - having some thugs push him into a van blindfolded and left in the dirt like a hostage victim.

He settled with pushing him because he’d always had issues showing how much he cared, especially when he wasn’t sure how Mickey would respond to soft reassurances, loving kisses, and neck caresses, which is what he’d actually craved to do. But violence was a language they both understood.

“What the fucks with the blindfold?” 

“The fucks with being late, bitch?” Mickey pushed him back and something seemed to come loose in Ian’s chest as they touched each other.

This was how it should be.

And any residual anger he may have felt at Mickey trickled out, only leaving a deep need to touch him again. He grabbed him by the front of his hoodie and tugged him closer, wanting to feel Mickey’s heat, and Mickey, mistaking that need for one of violence pushed back. Their hands were tangled in each other’s clothes and suddenly Ian’s face was so close to his.

Just two more inches and he’d be - he’d be  _ home _ .

His eyes stayed glued to his lips and he could just reach forward and--

Their noses grazed and then Mickey pushed him away as if he wanted nothing to do with him. Ian stared into his eyes and saw the dancing mirth there and he wondered what game he was playing. 

Did he not want to kiss him? 

Did he not want to kiss him in public? 

Was Ian missing something?

A pit of anxiety seemed to form in Ian’s stomach at their lack of contact. And the fact that Mickey didn’t want him to kiss him, like this wasn’t the social call Ian had wanted it to be.

While in the van, he’d imagined what he’d wanted to say to Mickey, when their paths did cross. And he’d formulated a whole speech, envisioned some sort of caring embrace, and then a long-awaited liplock that had Ian’s stomach rolling in eagerness.

But arguing under the bleachers and being pushed away before their lips could meet was not what Ian had anticipated.

And he was a little pissy about it.

For a moment, his mind flashed back to getting caught by Mickey when he got out of juvie banging that kid from ROTC. But he knew this time wasn’t going to be like then, how could it be when so much hung between them?

“You like the high school bleachers? Our spot, man.” 

So Mickey was thinking about that time too...

Ian hardly heard the question, with all of his attention still on the fact that Mickey was here, in front of him, and alive. And they weren’t kissing or even fucking. A long awaited reunion and Ian felt cheated.

He looked around taking in the reality of the situation as Mickey led him deeper under the bleachers.

“Went all official on me.” Mickey said, eyeing his uniform.

Ian looked away and said, “EMT work.” he paused as he allowed himself to look at Mickey again, that impulse to touch him, rearing its ugly head. He tried not to look him in the eyes, afraid that Mickey would see his desperation and desire. “You look good.”

“Not much else in there to do than workout.”

“So what now?”

“Layin low with my cellmate Damon. Mexican gangbanger hitman, motherfucker.” Mickey gave someone a middle finger behind him and Ian turned around to see Damon eyeing them with vague interest.

A pang of jealousy hit him in the chest and it wasn’t because he thought Damon and Mickey were getting it on, it was because they’d spent time together that Ian had missed. There was a whole section of Mickey’s life that Ian didn’t know anything about and this  _ Damon  _ did. __

“Cops come talk to you?” Mickey’s eyes were back on him and they were a sparkling cerulean in the sun, like the ocean on a particularly beautiful cloudless day.

“You think I’d snitch?

Mickey’s eyes were so blue, that Ian was having a hard time looking away. 

“Look, I’m getting a new ID, some cash, and heading to Mexico.”

Ian felt his stomach drop at those words and wished more than anything that this wasn’t the hand they were dealt. He knew that Mickey breaking out of prison probably wasn’t their happily ever after, but knowing they’d never see each other again when he left for Mexico was...suffocating. He tried to breathe through the panic, and heard himself say, “okay,” and he swallowed thickly.

“Come.” Mickey said simply, as if he weren’t asking the world of Ian.

“Come with you to Mexico?” Ian laughed harshly feeling uncomfortable at the prospect of being asked to uproot his life for a man he hadn’t seen in almost two years. It didn’t matter if he’d thought about him endlessly or screwed him over in the past. It didn’t matter that they had a whole dumpster truck of shit to wade through and Ian had broken up with him the last time they’d both been together without a glass partition between them. It didn’t even matter that Ian had a boyfriend and a family here that would be devastated that he left. 

Mickey wanted Ian to come to Mexico with him. He wanted them to run away together, like they’d dreamed of when they were younger and life seemed not easier, but simpler. 

And Ian was surprised at how desperately he wanted to say ‘yes’ and just disappear into that shitty van with Mickey and go south to the border. 

“Thought a lot about you inside.” Mickey took a step closer to him and once again his eyes were drawn to his lips. He felt mesmerized by those plush, soft pink lips he’d dreamed of kissing for almost two years. 

And years before that.

It had taken a lot for Mickey to kiss him that very first time and ever since then Ian had always thought of their shared kisses as gifts - a little win that he’d been able to finally share something special between them.   
Sure, fucking each other was great too, but kissing Mickey always felt like he was giving a little portion of himself to Ian and he expected him to treasure it.

And Ian fucking loved it.

He missed it.

He wanted to feel it again.

Mickey continued as he wrapped his hands around the front of Ian’s lapels and pulled him closer. “You’re under my skin, man the fuck can I do? Hm. The fuck can I do?” he paused and Ian thought that he was going to lean in and finally kiss him. 

_ This was it. _

He could feel the tickle of Mickey’s breath on his upper lip and his entire mind went blank as he stared at those lips, willing them to come closer. He already could feel the softness against his own, the memories of past kisses flickering through his mind as his heartbeat raced at the thought of being able to do it again.

Like it had when they were younger and Mickey had finally let him kiss him during that summer where things were okay before - before Terry.

“Think about it.” Mickey said.

But Ian couldn’t think, just wanted to reach out and--

They were interrupted by a whistle and Mickey was moving away and breaking the trance that Ian was still trying to shake from his head. He seemed five steps behind Mickey as he walked away, unperturbed by their exchange. But Ian, he couldn’t seem to think straight. Wasn’t sure how he’d ever think straight again if he didn’t kiss Mickey before he left for Mexico - before they never saw each other again.

Which is why he knew even before Mickey was out of sight, he was going to say yes to Mexico. How could he not when everything he’d ever wanted was in front of him, getting into a van with a Mexican banger hitman named Damon.

“How will I find you?” he called out.

Mickey continued walking and exclaimed, “look up.”

Grasping the small burner phone in his hand, he knew that he had to see him again. The blood was rushing in his ears and his heart was hammering against his chest as he thought about what would happen if he didn’t. He wasn’t sure if he could ever live with himself if he never had the opportunity to be with once more. 

He’d spend lifetimes regretting not saying yes. 

He couldn’t let him leave without one last kiss and even though there had been many instances when he’d wanted to lock lips with him, Ian had never wished he’d kissed Mickey more than at that moment. 


	14. Reunited

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mickey thinks about his and Ian's past reunions as he prepares for their latest one. Set 9X06 with flashbacks from 1-7.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you everyone who has been enjoying this story! I have appreciate each of your who have read, commented, and kudod! 
> 
> As we reach the end, I'm sad to say goodbye, but there's one more chapter. It won't be from Ian or Mickey's POV, just a general one and it's an epilogue more than anything. It's been such a fun journey to explore each of their kisses that were some of the most important to show their growth. It turned into such a character study, I wasn't expecting that. I know I missed a lot of important kisses, but this was supposed to be a small short story and then morphed into a monster. But I've loved every second of it. 
> 
> Originally, I was going to have two more chapters, but I finished this one and loved where it ended. I felt like it really tied everything together, so this is where the story ends. But like I said one more epilogue chapter from their wedding and then it's finished. Please let me know what you think and thank you again to those who took the time to check out my story! Stay healthy and safe in these strange times!

Mickey couldn’t believe he was fucking back in this shithole when he’d fought so hard to get out. He fucking escaped just to land himself back in prison  _ on fucking purpose this time _ . The irony wasn’t lost on him and the stupid things Gallagher ‘made’ him do. He knew that it was his choice, his life, but he’d lived without Ian for years now and he knew what it was like to be sans his ginger in his life. 

And honestly, he didn’t like it.

So he’d fought tooth and nail to get him back. Even if that meant landing himself back in prison. Even if it meant Gallagher wouldn’t want him anymore.

But he didn’t really believe that. If Ian even felt an eighth of how Mickey still felt about him, then he knew they’d be okay,  _ right _ ?

He’d take being locked up for the rest of his life if it meant being with Ian, especially if they were cellmates where neither of them could run from the other. They could finally be together without any shit getting in the way, except, obviously fucking prison.

He just wasn’t sure Ian felt the same, but here he was, sticking his neck out for the ginger fuck  _ yet again. _

The thing was, while driving down to the border, nothing seemed to have changed between them. What was different was the intensity of their feelings for one another; Ian was a bit more open with him and Mickey was a bit more receptive to those emotions. 

There was still something between them, so would it be different now?

For that reason, he felt more comfortable with his decision to go back to prison for Gallagher. When he began to go through the process of turning himself in, he knew Gallagher would be worth the whole fucking thing. He knew the feelings between them would never go away.

Mickey doubted they’d ever leave.

He was banking on it.

After all, Ian had told him he loved him after almost two years apart and only a few days together. It was that mere fact he was holding onto with both hands as he began his life back in prison. 

Granted, he was in Beckman Correctional facility now, so technically it was a different prison, but still it was  _ prison _ and no matter where the fuck you are, it never changes.

But he felt different this time.

He knew it was going to be different this time.

Ian was going to be here.

Ian would had never survived beyond the fucking border anyway, but that didn’t mean the hurt was any less, something that had taken months for Mickey to accept. But on the larger scale of things, even though it sucked that Gallagher had left him high and dry with the knowledge that they would never see each other again, he couldn’t bring himself to hate him. 

He’d tried.

Just like when he was in prison for the whole Sammi ordeal.

He really fucking tried, but even when Gallagher treated him like shit, getting up the ability to hate him was almost impossible.

At some point, he knew it was unhealthy. The fact that he was never Ian’s choice hurt the most. He tried to mask it with anger, but it just really fucking hurt. It was like he was being stabbed over and over, never letting the wound fully close before it was punctured again.

It was bullshit.

And sometimes he wished he could just finally say ‘goodbye’ to Gallagher. 

But the ginger fuck held onto his mind and heart with a death grip and Mickey knew he’d never feel the same for anyone else.

He’d found the love of his life when he was 17 years old and he knew it even back then, even when he was so far in the closet he was pressed against the furthest back wall. 

In Mexico, it took a good three months for him to stop living on the streets and start making some form of money and he knew his time there would look a lot different if he had to protect Ian, especially if they couldn’t find his meds. Sure, he got roped into working for the cartel down there, which wasn’t all bad, but he knew intrinsically that Ian would have lasted as long as his pasty white ass would, which was probably five minutes, if that.

He knew it was ridiculous asking Ian to come with him in the first place, but it was his last ditch attempt to be with the redhead. He’d never really expected Ian to say ‘yes’ and when he did...well, he forgot how he had a tendency to rip the rug out from under Mickey. Sometimes it could be good and other times it could lead to a breakup or Mickey driving across the border as a woman without Ian beside him. He never really knew with Ian and he loved and hated that about him.

The thing was as angry as he was and as hurt as he was, he still risked his life and his freedom to make it back to him because  _ he loved him _ . 

That’s what it came down to.

But this time he wasn’t really sure what to expect from him when he showed up in prison. He’d been following the news, which had a hard on for Ian’s case and knew he was probably coming in tomorrow. It had been strange to see Ian as a Gay Jesus icon and he vowed to tease him about it while in prison, they had three years together after all. 

Immediately upon seeing images of him, though, he’d known that he hadn’t been taking his meds. It was so fucking obvious, he wasn’t sure how anyone could miss it. He wasn’t sure how anyone else had ignored that little tidbit, especially with his family.

A part of him blamed them for not having noticed it, but then he’d still be in Mexico and Ian would still be living the perfect little life he’d told Mickey about while driving down to the border.

He thought back long ago to Fiona telling him that she would make sure he was okay, that she’d be there for him, but a majority of the work had fallen onto Mickey’s shoulders. While he never minded it at the time, he wondered what the fuck Fiona and Lip had been thinking. He figured without him there Ian had backslide, especially since his siblings seemed to be caught up in their own shit. At least that’s how it had been years ago when they were together. 

He never really understood Ian’s commitment to them when they all seemed to be so self involved in their own shit and ignored his own. He got that they were siblings, but when he was dealing with coming out, Iggy and Mandy had both been there for him - for them. Whereas while Ian was dealing with his bipolar shit, Fiona had run off to get married and Lip was...well, Lip helped, but last Ian had mentioned while they drove down to Mexico was that he’d been kicked out of school and seemed to have a drinking problem.

Mickey could’ve told Ian that years ago, but he didn’t like to get involved in the Gallagher problems, unless it was about the oldest redhead.

When he had the chance to talk to Mandy again, he vowed to never bring that up. He saw how hard she’d worked to get him into college.

_ Fuck _ , he was nervous to see Ian again. 

He wasn’t sure what to expect.

Would he be happy? 

Would he have a boyfriend still? He was probably getting tons of ass being a fucking Gay Jesus icon or whatever.

Would he feel guilty for leaving him at the border?

What if…?

He’d been in Beckman for a few weeks now after he’d given himself up to the pigs. He’d gotten a nice little cell to himself and hadn’t done much with the space since he wanted to wait for Ian to come in before making himself at home.

As he lay in bed that night, waiting in eagerness for Ian to come tomorrow he began to think about all the other times they had been reunited. Not just the last time when he’d broken out of prison and snuck back into the Southside to see him for what he thought to be his last time.

No, he was thinking about the very first time he’d gotten out of juvie and what happened...

* * *

Upon walking into the sunshine, Mickey saw Ian and Mandy standing there waiting. Ian was staring right at him smoking a cigarette and had a little smirk on his face. 

His heart leapt in his chest at the site and he wished that he could reach out and touch him. Oh, how much he wanted to reach out and just wrap himself around him, but they were in broad daylight, Mandy was here, and well, he didn’t want to seem like a fucking pussy.

He bit his lip to stop himself from smiling as he came to stop in front of Mandy and Gallagher. He wanted to tell him how glad he was to see him, how he’d thought about him on the inside, how he felt bashful at the fact that Fircrotch had come to meet him after his latest juvie stunt, but instead, he focused on a simple ‘the fuck is he doing here?’ because he didn’t feel comfortable saying those things quite yet, if ever. 

Only his family had ever been interested in waiting for him to come out of juvie and even then that was only half the time.

Ian responded with that same amused smirk on his lips and Mickey turned his attention to Mandy in fear that the longer he looked at Gallagher, the easier it would be for people to know what was going on between them.

Focusing on Mandy was easy because she could be so oblivious if something wasn’t right in front of her. 

He bantered with her and felt Ian’s eyes on them. 

Ignoring the fluttering of his heart - shit was gay - as they began to walk away and back to their neighborhood, he felt Ian’s gangly arm wrap around his shoulders and for one moment he allowed it to stay before he quickly brushed him aside.

He didn’t like to be touched.

And he didn’t want anyone to get the wrong idea about another man touching him.

Besides, he didn’t really want to have his arm hooked around his shoulders. He wanted him to kiss him, touch him, fuck him.

But for now, he’d have to wait because again it was broad daylight, Mandy was here, and a fear wrapped itself around his heart at the idea of locking lips in public or even at all since he knew once he kissed Ian, he would be gone for him.

* * *

Finding Ian grinding on old men wasn’t what he’d expected from his night. Hell, he wasn’t expecting to find him working as some cock tease stripper in a gay club when he’d run off to the army all those weeks earlier. 

He’d thought that maybe he’d find him swinging drinks or taking orders or whatever when he discovered he was working in a bar, but instead, he found his ex(?)boyfriend giving lap dances to pervy freaks. 

Of course, the night didn’t exactly go as planned overall when Ian refused to go with him or even look at him.

As he confronted the redhead about seeing his family, he knew that the carefully laid out - and obsessively thought about - plan wasn’t going to go the way he wanted.

Ian, to his knowledge, didn’t really use drugs, but watching him tweak out in the club as he tried to talk to him was, well, it was frightening.

It wasn’t the Ian he knew.

The guy who was healthy, dedicated, and strived for ambition.

After he got kicked out and was forced to wait outside until Ian came out, he thought about what he could do to get him to come back to the Southside. His first instinct was to knock him out and drag him back, but he wasn’t keen on dragging Ian’s deadweight ass all the way to the Southside. Then he thought about just sweet talking him, like he would when he knew Ian was getting his panties all in a bunch cause he wasn’t showing him how much he cared or whatever Firecrotch wanted from him that week. But he knew sweet words and kisses in the dark weren’t what Ian wanted. So instead, he smoked cigarette after cigarette and waited to see what happened until Ian emerged.

Then he’d make his move.

But then he wasn’t banking on the old man that was propping Ian up to come out with him. It scared Mickey to see Ian like that, almost passed out with some stranger wrapping around him. 

If he hadn’t been there, then Ian would’ve been taken advantage of. Seeing that brought an anger up to the surface he’d tried to keep under wraps throughout the entire day of looking for Gallagher. Combined with the anger he felt earlier, it seemed to pour out of him as he robbed the guy and then kicked him until he hurried away with that pussy ass run of his. 

Passed out in the snow, Mickey gathered him into his arms and took the Uber back to his house, wrapping Ian up in his coat as best as he could. 

He was cold, but it was nothing compared to feeling Ian’s icy skin against his own. It created a whole new level of concern that Mickey didn’t even realize he possessed. He pulled Ian closer in the Uber so that he was wrapped up tightly in the large winter coat he had given him and caged in around Mickey’s arm and his body. 

Ian’s head was tucked into the croak of his neck, so he could feel the soft intake and outtakes of breath. That little reassurance signified that he was alive and well, which Mickey was indescribably thankful for. But he wasn’t sure where Ian’s head was at mentally. What was he thinking working in a place like that? Stripping for money?

What happened to the army?

What happened to the rigid, dedicated, and driven man he’d seen just a few months prior. 

He tightened his hold on Ian’s shoulders and looked down at the sleeping redhead, eyeliner smudged across his pale skin, and the smell of cologne from rich old men wafting through his nostrils till it burned. 

He closed his eyes and kissed the crown of Ian’s head wishing he could take away the demons that seemed to be instilling something dark within him. 

He vowed then that he wasn’t going to let anything like what could’ve happened tonight come to pass. He’d protect Ian as best as he could. 

With that promise, he pulled him impossible closer and wrapped his arm around him tighter as if that would ensure he stayed protected forever.

* * *

After apologizing for being late, Mickey crawled into bed with him. It was a hot night, so he wanted to stay above the covers, but he was eager to get as close to the redhead as possible. He’d kissed him on the forehead before placing a hand on his soft cheek and stroking the skin there. Ian stared at him and every emotion etched itself into his brain.

Fear.

Relief.

Sadness.

Hope.

Love.

And Mickey held those feelings close, wanting to make sure that Ian didn’t feel them alone because he really didn’t.

Mickey was afraid of what their future together would bring, he felt the sadness of seeing Ian look so lost with what was going on. But he felt relieved that they had each other and hoped that things would get better. Most importantly, he loved him and as hard as he’d fought against that, now, it was as much a part of him as his blue eyes or dark hair.

The other two Gallagher brothers were sleeping, so Mickey tried to stay quiet, but he needed to know how Ian was coping. 

If he was taking whatever medication they had sent him home with. If he was doing what he needed to. He just had to know that Ian was taken care of because he needed to protect him and make sure that they would be okay, together. That they’d get through this.

“You okay?” Mickey whispered, stroking his cheek.

Ian had turned onto his back and had closed his eyes, but he wasn’t sleeping. Mickey could tell because his breathing hadn’t changed.

“Not really.” Ian whispered back. “I flushed my pills.” he admitted and Mickey bit back a groan.

“Are you angry?” Ian asked. He turned to look at him, opening his eyes so their eyes met again. Ian searched Mickey’s face with his darting green eyes and he tried to give off calmness, but hearing that Ian had flushed his meds was...it was agonizing.

Mickey smiled sadly at him and shuffled a few inches closer. “I’m concerned, not angry.”

Ian stared at him and then to Mickey’s horror watched as tears welled up in his eyes. 

“I’m not crazy.” 

“I never said you were.”

“I’m not Monica.”

“I never thought you were.”

The tears rolled down Ian’s eyes and he quickly turned back to look at the ceiling, but Mickey could see the shiny tracks on his pale skin. 

He gently ran his thumb across the tracks, feeling the warmth of his salty tears and then without concentrating too much on it, he reached forward and kissed them. He could taste the salt on his lips and felt the softness of Ian’s cheeks. He ignored his thoughts about how this was the gayest shit he’d done, ever, but needing Ian to feel some type of relief and this was what he’d thought of.

To his surprise, Ian turned toward him and curled his body up and huddled closer to Mickey. Ian’s head rested against his chest and Mickey’s arms wrapped around his body. Their legs entangled together and Mickey didn’t think they could ever get closer than they were just then. But that didn’t stop him from pulling him in until their bodies were almost one.

* * *

Mickey wished he’d had the balls to kiss Ian while they stood under the bleachers talking with Damon looking on to ensure the pigs stayed off their trail. 

He’d wanted to kiss him immediately upon setting eyes on him standing in the sunlight in that EMT uniform. When those green eyes trained themselves on him, something in him seemed to unhinge and the words  _ this is it  _ floated across his brain, as if this is what he had been waiting for, for the endless months he’d spent in that shithole.

When Ian came into the shadows under the bleachers, he’d wondered if he was going to launch himself at him and a part of him hoped not because Damon didn’t exactly know he was gay and he wasn’t trying to come out to the Mexican gangbanger he’d befriended to break out of prison.

The other part, the much bigger one, had wanted Ian to launch himself at him and kiss him hard on the mouth without anything holding him back. 

He craved the feel of Ian’s soft lips on his, but he knew him well enough to know that he wouldn’t kiss him in the daylight. He knew Mickey wasn’t 100 percent comfortable with that and if there was one thing Mickey was sure of it was that Ian still knew him inside and out.

Despite having reservations though, as they talked, he could tell Ian wanted to kiss him, what with him staring at his lips and their noses grazing and all, but he knew that he needed to wait.

He’d known when he’d texted him as night fell that Ian would come to him. He’d known that as easily as he knew he’d wake up in the morning, but still, he was nervous that he would bow out.

This would essentially be their goodbye, if Ian chose not to come with him, and that made it more difficult to see him. However, at least they had the chance for a proper goodbye unlike every other time they’d had to be apart.

This time, Mickey was going to make sure that he wouldn’t ever forget him again. This time Mickey was going to make sure that he knew what he’d be missing if he said ‘no’ to Mexico.

His mind briefly went back to the time when Ian had broken up with him when Mickey had thought they would be reuniting and his stomach churned at the memory.

He knew this reunion would be different than any other one because he’d finally be able to kiss him without anyone getting in the way. And he took a little bit of pleasure in knowing that Ian wanted to kiss him as much as he did. 

He could see it in his eyes.

The thing was, he’d wanted to fuck with Ian the first time he’d seen him standing in the bright sunlight as Mickey was forced to stay in the dark. It wasn’t just cause Damon didn’t know he was gay or they were in the daylight where anyone could see. 

He didn’t want to show Ian all of his cards. 

He’d asked him to come with him and he’d told him he hadn’t stopped thinking about him while he was in the can. But that didn’t mean he was going to remind Ian how he made him feel. He needed to leave Ian with a little...with a reminder that what they had wasn’t going away, even if it had been almost two years since they’d laid eyes on each other.

He was still feeling shitty about Ian never visiting him in prison and he wanted him to suffer, just a bit more. 

Okay, maybe a lot.

So seeing the pure desire in Ian’s eyes and how he stared at his lips, well, Mickey knew he had him right where he wanted him. 

Add in the late night texts and the secret meeting spot near the docks, he felt pretty confident that he’d at least get to say a goodbye. And ruin Ian for anyone else he might be with after him. 

He wasn’t sure if Ian thought he was worth throwing the entire ‘perfect’ existence Ian had seemingly built, but he knew he was going to see him again. 

At least for one last kiss.

Or fuck.

Whatever.

He knew that if he kissed him under the bleachers, then he probably wouldn’t have been able to walk away as easily as he could. He hadn’t exactly forgotten how it felt to kiss Ian, to feel his hands run down his sides, his fingers cutting through his hair, but he had spent time away from it, which meant that he could live without it.

A man doesn’t know he was dying until he’s shown his wound or whatever anyway.

Meeting at the docks had always been his plan. 

He wanted to see if Ian was even interested in coming with him in the first place before he’d texted him to meet up. Mickey wasn’t sure what he would’ve done if they had met here first and Ian hadn’t been interested in being with him again, especially when Mickey had been thinking about him nonstop.

His plan had been that he’d see Ian, then he’d leave with Damon and head to Mexico. He never thought that Firecrotch would continue up a steady stream of conversation between them. He never thought that Gallagher would have that look in his eye - that desire that always made Mickey’s heart race and his dick harden. Hell, when he’d texted him, he didn’t think that Ian would even come to the docks, but as he emerged from the shadows waiting impatiently for him to show, he realized that his ginger missed him just as much as he had.

So then why didn’t he visit him?

Why had he left him in prison to rot?

Mickey wanted to know, but now wasn’t the time to ask those questions.

He saw Ian approaching and then looked down. He was already walking toward him when Ian was tossing his cigarette and looked up from his burner phone. He hurried toward him as if they were magnets finally coming together.

“I knew you’d come.” Mickey called and Ian seemed to be moving as quickly toward him as he was.

The excitement of finally being able to act on a desire he’d had for far too long withered in his stomach and his fingers itched to reach out and tough his skin. He muttered, “knew you’d come,” when he was right in front of him and then a whispered “c’mere.” 

Finally, they connected and their lips fell into an age old pattern they’d done for years. Mickey noted that this kiss was much harder than their previous ones, their lips slid along one another and their tongues tangled together, but then Ian was moving away and seemed to be angry with himself, as if he didn’t expect them to lock lips.

As if he hadn’t expected to be one magnet looking for another.

As if he was trying to fight his attraction to him.

Mickey couldn’t help but smile at the utter sadness of it all, as if Ian thought they could ever ignore their feelings for one another.

Looking back on it, Mickey should’ve guessed Ian would let him down when they arrived at the border, the signs had been there all along. Mickey had just hoped that this was their happy ending.

All the hope that had been building as Ian appeared at the bleachers, the docks, getting in the car, had deflated like a sad balloon when he’d kissed him goodbye at the border.

He knew that every one of their reunions always ended in some fucked up bullshit, but he’d never expected that Ian could disregard him so easily as he had when he told him to go on without him only telling him a simple ‘I love you’ as they parted from each other’s lives for good.

* * *

Staring at the back of the top bunk, Mickey wondered if choosing Ian and prison was basically him driving across the Mexican border alone again. That he got all of his hopes up for nothing to find that Ian was going to leave him high and dry; that he wouldn’t choose him like he had done so many times before.

He thought about that all night long, until the rays of sunshine crawled into the cell and he knew Ian would be here soon.

He went about his daily business; shower, breakfast, work, lunch, then he headed back to his bunk having heard from a skinny crackhead that worked in the laundry room with him some new guys had arrived and one of them looked like a crazy motherfucker.

“It’s that man that’s always on the news.” The crackhead had said.

Mickey’s stomach jumped in anticipation as he was told to head back to his cell.

He saw a tall, pale, black haired fucker walk into his cell as he began to walk over. Torrence called to him with a smirk a few of his cronies standing around him and looking toward his cell.

“Finally got a cellmate, Milkovich.” he said as he passed.

Mickey nodded, but didn’t say anything back until he entered the cell. At first, he wasn’t sure if it was Ian because of how dark this fucker’s hair was, but the defeated set of his shoulders that tightened with tension as he turned around told him that it was Gallagher. The tight ass helped too.

For a moment, all Ian did was stare at him and if Mickey didn’t know him so well, he wouldn’t be able to tell he was about to cry. The moment their eyes met though, shock washed across his face and he seemed as if he were afraid even to breathe, as if he thought Mickey would disappear.

Mickey gave a very brief explanation of how he’d arrived back in prison and across from him  _ I rolled on the cartel I was working for.  _

And then watched as Ian struggled to breathe.

All he could get out was a, “holy fuck.”

And Mickey smirked as he quipped about taking the bottom bunk and advanced toward him, deliberately taking a step toward him and then easily side stepped away so he was laying leisurely across the bottom bunk.

He stared at him daringly as the butterflies - he’d never admit that outloud - fluttered in his stomach, waiting to see what Ian did.

He was laying all of his cards out here for Ian to see and he just needed the redhead to come to him - to choose him.

He felt his lips widen into a smirk as Ian glanced at the door and then advanced toward him. His lips fell into their rightful spot against his own. Their bottom limbs tangled with each other and Mickey’s hand caressed his neck and the side of his face while Ian’s came to rest on his cheek gently touching the newly shaved stubble and his arm boxed him in, so he couldn’t move, as if he’d want to. 

Ian seemed almost hesitant to kiss him, but Mickey realized he was just taking his time. Something they hadn’t ever really had before. Their noses grazed, and Ian continued to stare at him until he felt his top lip caress his own before he went all in. 

Unlike their last reunited kiss where it was hurried and hard this one was slow and sweet. 

It was worth everything. 

If he had to do everything all over again knowing that this was how it ended, he’d do it again in a heartbeat. 

Everything seemed to have led up to this chance to finally kiss him as they reunited in this moment was. 

Now, they could take their time, even if they were in prison. 

They had all the time in the world. 

Neither of them were going anywhere and somehow, Mickey knew this time, their reunion would be much sweeter than any of the other ones.

There was nothing standing between them.

When they pulled apart, Mickey caressed Ian’s face again and then smirked at him.

“What the fuck happened to your hair?” 

Ian scowled at him, “fuck off.”

Mickey laughed and moved forward to kiss him again feeling for the first time in years as if he were finally home. 


	15. Epilouge

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mickey and Ian finally cross the finish line.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The last chapter! It's very short, just a sweet little wrap up. I want to thank everyone again for reading, commenting, and kudoing! You guys have been fantastic! I didn't think this story would turn as long and rollercoaster-y as it did, but I loved writing it. It was such a fun foray into writing Gallavich and you can definitely expect more from me. 
> 
> If you liked this story and you want to read a canon-adjacent story, then check out Homecoming. I'm also working on a little something else, so check out that when I finally get it up too. It won't be for a bit since I want to focus on Homecoming before I start another project, but there's a story that's rolling in my head and I need to get it out. Anyway, enjoy the epilogue and stay healthy and safe! Thanks again for checking the story out!

The gold Chiavari chairs were filled up with their guests, Terry hadn’t burst in yet to ruin their wedding, and the Episcopalian minister was right on course to marry them. 

From the corner of the Polish Doll, Mickey stood with Sandy as everyone began to take their seats. The wedding was due to start soon and on time, despite what had occurred that day. He looked over to where Ian was standing across the room behind a little partition to block him from the crowd. He smiled at the sight of him and Lip talking and he could only guess what encouraging words the older Gallagher was telling him to get him to back out.

“You don’t have to do this, you can still back out.” Sandy said, pulling his attention to her.

He raised an eyebrow at her in disbelief, “hell no.” he paused as he considered saying what had been on his mind since he had seen the Polish hall being set up for the wedding. Sandy hadn’t been around for his first wedding, she’d been in juvie for stealing cars, but he knew that Mandy had told her about it at some point after she’d gotten out and he was in prison. 

Sandy and Mandy weren’t as close as he and Sandy were, but he knew that when you’re a female Milkovich, you gotta stand by each other. Just like if you’re a gay one.

“You know, when I got married the first time...I was dreading it so fucking much. I fucking - I fucking didn’t want to go through with it. I figured with Terry and everything that had happened maybe it would get him off my ass. I didn’t really think I was giving up that much anyway. I mean it’s not like I’d been free before, so what type of hell would a wife and a baby add that Terry hadn’t already done to me? Anyway, Ian burst through the door as I was freaking out.” Mickey said keeping his eyes trained on Ian, despite not being able to see him fully behind the partition.

“What did he say?” Sandy asked curiously.

Mickey smiled sadly, “just how I shouldn’t go through with it. Begged me not to. I figured that everyone gets cold feet before getting married, you know? It wasn’t worth the beating I’d get if I didn’t go through with it anyway. For a moment though, I wish - I had wished that he could save me...it’s fucking stupid, I know, but... When Ian asked me to marry him - both times - I knew it would be different. My feet - they ain’t cold.” he glanced at Sandy who gave him a watery smile and he rolled his eyes at her.

“Get the fuck out of her with those tears, bitch.” he said straightening up as the last of the guests took their seats.

“Fuck off.” Sandy muttered.

“When I saw them setting everything up, I knew that this is where I’m supposed to be - with Ian, so yeah I’m fucking ready and I’m not backing out.” he added as Etta James ‘At Last’ started.

He glanced at Sandy and she grinned at him as they walked to the mouth of the aisle. As he stood straight and grasped Sandy’s arm, he saw Ian and Lip walk to the altar and unlike his last wedding, he felt completely at ease with what they were about to do. He wanted this more than he’d ever wanted anything in his life.

* * *

Mickey and Ian stood at the altar with their eyes trained only on one another, their hands entwined tightly unwilling to let go. If they could hear the other’s heart beat, they would have found an energized drumroll that was completely in sync.

As they spoke their vows, Ian nor Mickey could bear to look away from the other, both intent on making sure the other one knew how serious they were about the ‘richer, poorer, sickness, and in health’ part of their future.

“Now that Mikhailo and Ian have given themselves to each other. With these vows and the giving and receiving of these rings. I now pronounce you husband and husband.” The minister said.

Ian broke his gaze from Mickey just to ask, “now?”

Mickey heard the joyous lilt in her tone and she confirmed, “now.”

Ian moved forward as Mickey tilted his head and their lips were on one another. Ian felt Mickey melt against him as he parted their lips and passionately made a promise that this right here was the start of their future together.

They’d kissed so many times before, more times than either of them could count after 10 years on-and-off, but this one was the first one as husbands and they wanted to make it count. 

Ian’s hands cradled Mickey’s head and the brunette pushed a little closer to him as whoops and hollers broke the trance their kiss had created. 

As they parted, Mickey knew his grin matched the wide one on Ian’s face. They moved to walk down the aisle together, careful of Ian’s boot and only stopping for the redhead to ruffle Carl’s hair. 

Their hands clasped tighter than when they had said their vows as they neared the end of the aisle to start their new life as husbands. As they reached the mouth of the walkway, they both breathed a sigh of relief, they’d finally crossed the finish line. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The end!! 
> 
> Leave a review if you'd like! Thanks again for reading!


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